If a tree falls in a forest...

"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

In the age of lightning speed communication via social media, with its hypnotic aesthetics and videos, it seems personal blogs have pretty much become a relic. Who has time and patience to read the meandering thoughts and experiences of some random anon on the internet, whose life events don't directly affect any of the readers? It is a lot easier to follow others, like their posts and share your own photos: a picture is worth a thousand words, now more than ever before.

Even in the few tarot and cartomancy communities that are still alive, I have noticed a deceleration of the discussion, as well as a decrease in their complexity. Those endless threads of woolgathering and bouncing ideas off with others no longer exist and blogs, which used to be how we followed other people's more individual journeys, are out of fashion.

I do not mean to wallow in empty nostalgia here – there is not pointing longing for what used to be, we are not going backwards after all. Our social rhythm of communication has changed, that is a fact; the results of this, only time will show. In itself, it's neither a good nor a bad thing.

So why do I bother writing here, knowing that no one reads it any more? I ask myself that sometimes too. I have tried to be a part of the divination/spirituality "community" of Instagram, but it wasn't for me because I express myself the best through words, not images. Furthermore, I do not like the constant exposition and 'self advertisement' that social media seems to be all about. 

At first, the prospect of writing for no one but myself did seem a bit pointless. But then I remembered that, for centuries, people have kept private journals they never showed anyone, or only allowed a selected few to read. Was their writing pointless? I do not think so. 

There is value in recording our own unique journey, even if just for ourselves. Reading back through this blog, I can gauge how much I have changed as a person, both in spirit and in writing, while still pinpointing the many particularities that make me... well, myself. Nothing is exactly like it used to be, and yet there are parts of who I am that are constant. They grow and adapt, of course, but they are still indelibly me. And it is fascinating to be able to see this, to have this little time machine of ideas, thoughts, events and inner states.

So I keep writing. When my fingers fall on the keyboard and there is no one around to see it, they still make a sound. And even if no one else ever listens, I know that I will – in the future. 

Besides, who knows? Perhaps blogs will someday come in vogue again...