Post 123

Letting Go: Reflections on Getting Off the Grid

I didn’t go after abstract art in order to show that I could. I didn’t go after Delta or LifeSiteNews in order to prove anything about myself, or for revenge, or for the kicks.

You may find it rather amusing to watch one thing after the other being praised or being condemned, or for being praised for one aspect and condemned for another, but I’m not even watching you watching me.

And as for amusement, well, writing itself can be amusing and quite entertaining, but the topics are serious. If you think I don’t sweat during some of these ‘work-outs’ then you obviously haven’t done this. The main thing is that it costs me time – in other words, life itself: one’s time on earth.

But my point is, I don’t just spout off.

I discharge what I consider my duty.

With this post now, I know where I step. I know that now I suggest something that you never would have seen coming. It’s so universal, and it’s so deeply held.

As a matter of fact, there’s something that you love so deeply that you don’t even realize you do. It’s a love that you encourage in every young child, but it often continues into adulthood – something so innocuous, so innocent, so everywhere, so necessary, but not.


I won’t be surprised if this costs me whatever readership I have. (EfficientOne will one day be able to testify what effect this post had on my stats.)

I feel called to ask you to let go of your Lego™.

Your precious Lego™.

Before you leave me, and as you shake your head at the now-she’s-off-her-rocker-gone-too-far-blogger, consider your wail. I answer you back: if what I say is so obviously and completely off-base, then what kind of ‘toy’ is this? What idol is this, that it has such a universal hold that it has become some kind of silent sacred grail?

What digital miniature world of circles-and-grids has got you in its little plastic grip? Why does it cause you such pain? I could complain about Barbie and you might even agree (I do complain, now, here, for the record). But your grip on this one toy (its grip on you) is so absolute, so entire, so complete that you gasp at the outrageous nonsensical suggestion.

Strange, no?

Let go of your Lego™.

See if you can.

If you can’t do it, then wonder and shudder, but do it even quicker.

Oh, I guess I forgot something — words from a children’s game, forgotten while everyone was hunched over some plastic mesmerizing toy, clicking mechanically, block after block, click after click, instead of looking at the real world, instead of playing a robust game of pretend, eye to eye, face to face.

How did those words go?

Ah yes.

Let me amend.

Simon says

Get off the grid.

Get rid of your Lego™, your Duplo™ and all copycat versions.

Let go of the Lego™.

Leggo of the Lego™.