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It’s the year 2050. A hard drive connected to a screen and a hand-written piece of letter-size paper share adjacent display cases in the Museum of Eclectic Human Experience and Knowledge.
One night, after closing time, the drive turns to the paper and says,
“You know, I can’t figure it out. Why do the crowds always flock around you, yet barely give me a glance? I’m so crammed full of interesting data, stories, and notes, it’d take years to explore it all!”
“Exactly,” said the paper.
Second brains are quite the thing at the moment, aren’t they? Note making has replaced note-taking, and there’s a growing number of people (like me) telling you how to master the apps vying to be your right hand …brain.
I’ve got to thinking about this whole paperless thing and concluded that 100% digital is not the answer. My solution is to mirror the most important parts of your life in both the physical and digital worlds; something I call a VITAL file. More on that soon.
When I put things into digital form and store them on my hard drive, I’m imagining their usefulness to my future self and that they’ll therefore still be accessible decades from now.
But will anyone even think — or care enough — to look? That’s a hecka lotta files we’re talking about!
Today’s children are still being taught the ancient art of handwriting, I’m happy to say. That’s not a skill likely to be completely superseded by that of typing.
Speaking of typing, the typewriter was simply another, more efficient and legible way of communicating something in a tangible form, than writing by hand. These days, typewriters are seen as a sentimental link with the past; a way of writing that brings back the personal touch, because, like handwriting, it’s made up of real bits of ink, put onto real paper, by real people.
When I was growing up in the 1970s and 80s, a typewritten letter was seen as impersonal. Writing a letter by hand was the way to show you cared.
Tom Hanks in the documentary California Typewriter says that he loves “the personal touch of a typewritten thank you note”. It’s understandable, however, when you consider how little thought is required to send an email.
Tom talks of it taking about 7 seconds to send an email, compared with 7 minutes to type a letter and get it ready to post. He says he’ll delete the email every time, but keep the typewritten letter forever.
I’d add that no matter what your handwriting looks like, there’s a part of you in it that can’t be communicated digitally. The art of graphology is a fascinating topic I’d like to explore some time.
Handwriting and typewritten documents have something else in common: they take up physical space. They need to be stored and cataloged if they’re to be accessible in the future.
It’s so easy to lose a piece of paper! Or to accidentally destroy it. It’s also easy to feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of paper that can build up.
How do you decide which physical records of your life to keep, and which to discard?
While I wish I had a magic formula for this often gut-wrenching dilemma, in the end, it comes down to the balance you’re willing to strike between being a record-keeper and having room to move.
One solution is to meld the digital and physical worlds. Keep the paper that matters the most, and scan it as a digital backup.
When I’m having a hard time decluttering a whole pile of papers and drawings I just can’t decide about, it’s freeing to take a quick photo on my phone, then discard them. Even if I never look at them again, somehow the act of taking a picture calms my anxiety about letting them go.
Quick tip: Take photos of memorabilia directly into the notes app of your choice, and tag them #memories or similar. I’ve started using Apple Notes for this purpose.
Forget sorting through and cataloguing every paper and digital file. If that happens over time, great; if not, in the end, it won’t matter as it’s very unlikely anyone will have the capacity to sort through mountains of physical or digital clutter.
Instead, create both a digital and mirrored physical file that represents who you were and are, and who you aspired to be. Think of it as a curated summary of your life. A VITAL file: Very Important Things About your Life.
In our home, we keep our most important documents in a briefcase that’s ready to grab and go in case of an emergency. Passports, insurance papers, and the like. I’ve also included instructions for accessing my digital VITAL file. If you use a password manager, consider including the login details here, or leaving them with a trusted friend.
If you’d like a comprehensive guide to putting your documents together, this article by Kara Monroe is one of the best I’ve seen.
What, then, is the ultimate aim? What exactly are we trying to achieve by writing, typing on paper, or taking digital notes?
Leaving the have-to writing tasks out of the equation, I think part of it is to clarify our own thoughts by seeing them apart from ourselves, in a form that can be seen, touched and shared with someone capable of appreciating it.
Another part is the desire to leave behind something that will continue to exist on this planet after we leave it. A legacy. Hopefully, it will be something that represents a part of our true essence; something that has an impact on another human life.
Keeping a VITAL file can show others who you were and what you valued once you’re gone, but always remember: your most valuable legacy will be left in the hearts and minds of the people whose lives brushed against yours while you were here.
