I like reading good editorials and blogs, no matter the subject—relationships, fitness, yoga, self-help, legalizing marijuana.
They all give me a high.
But the increasing trend of including an image after every paragraph makes me feel like I’ve regressed into childhood. It’s as if the writer understands that the only way to keep my attention is to tell a story with pictures.
What’s even more alarming is that I seem to be one of few who actually find this mimicking contribution to the already prolific epidemic of self-imposed ADD troubling.
We’re catering to it at every turn, Instagram being the pioneer of the movement, of course.
And then there’s Snapchat. Not only are stories (to call them “stories” gives the medium a LOT of credit, as does using the word “medium”) being told with the use of pics or short videos, but you don’t get a chance to muse on what you’ve seen because it magically disappears in ten seconds.
Luckily, most of what we view on both of these catatonic-inducing social media sites has so little depth that it only makes sense for them to disappear…forever. It’s actually a relief.
I know, I know. I sound old school, confused and out of touch.
I’m all those things.
But I’m not writing this because I’m angry about not being “good” at Instagram or Snapchat. I take pride in that truth. I don’t want to be. I already have enough difficulty taking the time and focus to sit down and actually read a book. More distractions will not serve that issue.
And when pictures are suddenly infiltrating the credibility of a beautifully written commentary, I can’t help but feel patronized. All I hear in my head is the editor or writer saying, “Aw. You’re adorable. You’ve made it this far. Here’s a picture. Now keep going, champ. There’s only five more paragraphs, you idiot, but we’ve got four more colourful images to get you through this. We’re with you. Look! A puppy.”
What would occur if we didn’t take pictures or short videos of something we were doing? I’m truly beginning to feel like that simply means it never happened.
But what takes its place is unique and glorious: The irreplaceable joy of full, undocumented presence.
Just writing that made me take a big breath, because we’ve all felt that kind of lucidity, and I’m willing to guess that when you conjure up those memories, it’s not the picture or video you took of the moment that you remember.
No. It’s a feeling so visceral and potent that the thought of “posting” it anywhere, would almost feel like a betrayal of a secret whispered to you by something sacred: Your soul.
ihateyogabook 