The mailbox is a long-standing edifice to a past, marginally related to the current, digitally focused world.
Once this was the source of our correspondence. Pre-dating the telephone, the “pony express” would deliver communication to households and homesteads far and wide. Husbands, wives, and children would eagerly anticipate words from those located great distances away. And the receipt of a letter would verily be an occasion worth celebration!
And what glorious consideration could be given to the reception of a parcel? If the delivery of words could spark such excitement, what would the delivery of tangibles do to the recipient?
Imagine the thrill of unboxing a mystery package. Could it be a toy? Could it be a delectable food item? Might it contain a precious heirloom bequeathed from a distant family member?
There is a great deal of excitement and anticipation surrounding a package or letter. When the contents are mysterious, our senses are piqued, and our curiosities engaged. It’s similar for an email or a text message, but not quite as stimulating. There is a longing for communication and engagement with something, or someone, outside of ourselves.
There seems to be a bit more importance infused into the delivery of a piece of mail or a package. With something that is gripable, weighable, shakeable, smellable, and actually causes friction upon our palms and digits, we give greater regard.
When we are graced with a letter, we recognize the effort required to procure the materials, to write or type out the language brushstrokes, and to pay for, and send off the offering. It’s much more difficult to discard these materials and efforts into that plastic receptacle and offer no response, than it is to click the delete key on your digital interface and summarily disregard the sender.
But when it comes to a package, the colossal separation of perceptions can truly be appreciated. Can you send someone an email package? Can you text them a multi-layered gift? How can anyone unwrap a tweet?
While the lines between digital communication and letters blur, the act of receiving a package is still inimitable on a digital scale.
Perhaps the action of unboxing reminds adults of their younger years and the happy, present-opening times of christmas, or birthdays, or graduation ceremonies. Maybe opening a present/package means, subconsciously, unearthing a mystery or surprise and unveiling its secrets. It could be that opening a box, is exciting just for the idea that it feels like a gift, regardless of the original sender.
It’s a small wonder then, how successful the world of shipment and delivery have become. While we hole ourselves away behind palm sized substitutes for speech, we may still feed our ingrained, gift-seeking needs through the same, afore-mentioned medium.
We could easily satisfy many of our needs through engaging our local communities. However, the self-gift idea surely comes into play. We order online. And certainly there is a degree of satisfaction garnered when breaking the seal on the delivery.
The disappointment sets in when it doesn’t seem quite like what it appeared to be in the picture that drove your purchasing decision. The decision was made though, with THIS as your resource. You didn’t look someone in the eye. You didn’t shake someone’s hand. He didn’t mention his family to you. Nor did the options at checkout include a smile from a struggling teenager.
But most of the time, it’s about the parcel, the unveiling, the shred, snip, and rip that reveal the contents of our desire. The amazing part of this is that, you don’t need anyone else to send a package to achieve this feeling. I will freely admit, the idea of receiving a package is somewhat stimulating. Even if I am aware of the contents, the act of unboxing and reception feel rather anonymous, and simultaneously gratifying.
Eventually this could lead to a situation where no one, ever, will have to reach out or communicate with anyone else. Food cold be dropped off in a box, and chemical and emotional levels stabilized by the additive contents supplied in the delivery. Interface with THIS will allow ordering of life sustaining nutrients and further neurochemical stabilizers. A drone could drop of your steak, just in time for your cookout!
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I can remember having a “real” pen pal as a child, one that I found in the back of a kids’ magazine–maybe Dynamite or Teen Beat. She was from Greece, and the anticipation of receiving a letter, in a strange handwriting from (what I thought was) halfway around the world was delectable. I can remember sitting on the front porch in summer, just sitting, not sitting reading or sitting and talking to someone, but just sitting and waiting to hear the mail truck on the next block.
There is a kind of meditation in waiting, and that building of anticipation for real mail that does feel like Christmas. It’s special because it happens so infrequently.
And I love this:
“When we are graced with a letter, we recognize the effort required to procure the materials, to write or type out the language brushstrokes, and to pay for, and send off the offering. It’s much more difficult to discard these materials and efforts into that plastic receptacle and offer no response, than it is to click the delete key on your digital interface and summarily disregard the sender.”
So many kids, I think, think of writing when really, like any craft, it is a work of art that contains the flesh and blood of the artist. And that’s special.
Nice piece of writing. 🙂
I’m so very sorry that I missed this response. Thank you for your considerate response to my humble words.
Nice peek into the universal pleasure of receiving and opening gifts. The mystery.