I have a mild case of poison oak on my thumbs, either from weeding or the cats, and I ponder what has been nettling me, what irritants have crept under my skin to boil and itch. How does this excess fluid serve to protect, to heal, to bring awareness and attention where my body needs it most.
I spill salsa on my iPad, taking a moment to dab it off the virtual keyboard, pondering the changes in technology in my lifetime, all that has yet to come. I saw an article on wrist chips, saw a Dick Tracy type watch. Soon our children will be cloning sparrow wings to their backs, growing antennas from their heads as the click their jaw to make a phone call. I'm sure I'll seen old fashioned and obsolete, she who still marvels at texting.
As we move to more voice commands, clicking of icons and using abbreviations to communicate, I wonder not just at a basic loss of literacy and a turnoff a more symbolic time, just as the development of the funnies arose from the need to illustrate current events in the times of illiteracy, I wonder what will happen to our left brains, as the right more symbolic side is found reflected in society, as surely as videos and visual, passive culture has replaced Sunday drives and mornings with the new york times.
I rub my nails against my thumb and wonder if in the future a simple gesture would start my laundry, wash the dishes, have dinner prepared before I get home. Or does it just keep me grounded, in the here in now, chop wood, carry water, scratch itch...
