In his own write …

… Letters in the Time of Covid - Andy Smarick, Commentary Magazine. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

I quickly realized two things. First, hand-writing letters was, in fact, calming. Finding a still, comfortable spot at the end of the day, putting screens and other distractions aside, and focusing attentively on corresponding with someone was a balm for a frazzled mind and frayed nerves. It functioned much like meditation. It strengthened my concentration and made me aware of my racing thoughts. There is also something soothing and centering about the nearly silent, rhythmic, tactile nature of working with a pen and paper instead of the tintinnabulation of keyboard pecking. Rather than focusing on a candle, a mantra, or your breath, you have the page, the ink, and your carefully moving hand. It makes me wonder whether people in days of yore wrote letters primarily to discuss recent events as I had thought—a coming trip by rail, the latest crop yields, a local wedding announcement. Or maybe that was all secondary, and the primary purpose—before the advent of psychotherapy, widespread use of yoga, or the development of prescription anti-anxiety medications—was to help the writer decompress.

I still have good handwriting (thanks to my mother  — who won a statewide penmanship competition when she was a kid — and the nuns) but not as good as it used to be, except for things like my signature. I’m old. It shows.