It has been almost a month now since I bid you adieu. I sort of left you hanging with the last letter; I was so caught up in addressing all of the questions it inspired that I didn't have time to talk with you about it! At this point, I'd just like to conclude our relationship by musing on our correspondence, and then this chapter can be closed in both our lives.
I'd like to begin by acknowledging how very helpful that correspondence was. It helped me to distill all of the things I was thinking about into concrete ideas. The mere act of coalescing the mental miasma into something coherent began to suggest direction by the time the words flowed onto the screen. This was helpful in managing how overwhelming the process seemed and kept the work moving forward.
One aspect that I think has yet to be resolved is how to balance the proportion between analysis and action. This writing, Gentle Library, it does take time! It's difficult to still oneself and one's mind - all right, dear Library, it is difficult for me to still myself and my mind - I feel like it is not productive action if it does not involve frenetic activity. But that isn't right, and I know it. Henry Ford (have I already told you this?) has said that for every moment of action there must be an hour of thought. I think the spirit of that is right but that it could be tweaked: that for every hour of action, there must be a moment of thought. That is why the proportion is perplexing to me; once I begin to think about something, I get carried away, and I lose sense of how much time it will take to explore any particular idea, let alone design and develop them with any degree of success. Oh, well; one more aspect of the process to understand so that I may exploit it to greatest effectiveness.
Interesting thought: what if our correspondence had not been me to you, but you to me? Intriguing. Perhaps next project...
Regardless, thank you for your participation; for listening, for offering suggestions, for taking part in this first experiment. Let's make each other a promise: next time, let's get down and a little dirtier in our letters, okay? I'll get naughty if you will.