This whole "internet thing" is still so new to us. (Yup, but ah think it's here to stay, Marge.) 50 years from now, what will they say about its impact on relationships and psyche?
Some things are just ... very odd, to our conventional way of thinking. And here's the perfect example:
I'm applying to seminary. Well, I'm applying to one UU seminary, and hoping I won't have to reapply to my old seminary, after the extended leave with LW's birth, infancy, and cancer. But I might have to redo that process as well, if they won't let me just pick up where I left off.
One requirement: recommendation from a UU minister.
I don't think this will be a problem; I've still got contacts with a couple whom I've worked with. But it's not as easy as it is for someone who actually attends a church that has a minister.
But here's the thought that is interesting to me: there are ministers out in the UU-blogosphere who know me far better than the ones who know me flesh-and-blood. Ye gods, the blog-ministers probably know me better than some members of my family. It is here that I have shared the pain of my spiritual journey as I angered at God, let go of certain beliefs, and found fresh spirituality. It is here that I have shared my soul.
(I don't think I need to state this, but for that anxious feeling in my stomach, let me hereby announce that in no way is this any sort of a hint for a recommendation, yada, yada, yada.)
And that's the other, interesting part of this. We are so conditioned to believe in what we see, rather than what we read. I know that I would question the ethics of giving someone I only knew as "Lizard Eater," someone whom I had never seen, never spoken to, a recommendation.
And then there's the whole issue of whether I am even as I present myself. It's an interesting conundrum:
IF you know me in real life, then you can base your recommendation on how I conduct myself, how I act around others, how others seem to treat me. But that doesn't mean you know me.
IF you only know me through this blog, then you know my deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings. You know my fears. You know the questions I ask of God and religion. You know me. But you've never met me.
Huh. 50 years. What will they say then?