Humans have long been fascinated by the idea that they could somehow speak with the dead. Most of us feel connected to them in one way or another, and we often ache for the chance to reunite. There are grieved lovers who want another chance to say goodbye; students who seek advice from deceased mentors; family members who yearn to make amends for past wrongs. Whatever our reasons, this craving for a continued relationship with our predecessors seems to be built into our DNA.
More than once, I’m sure you’ve thought, “if only I could hear the voices of the dead.” Well, what if I told you that you could?
Books are the answer.
When we read, our ancestors speak to us once more. Though death may have taken them, their voices remain with us in all that they’ve written, indelibly etched into the edifice of time. Books are the means by which we learn from our genealogical, intellectual and spiritual progenitors, as well as how we ourselves communicate with future generations, ensuring that whatever we learn during our ephemeral Earthly existence will never be lost.
They’re the voices of wise parents and teachers, telling us that our struggles were once theirs. They give us advice, and they teach us how to deal with our problems so that we won’t have to suffer the same mistakes.
They’re the voices of friends and lovers, who bestow comfort and hope in times of distress. They remind us through their stories — some joyful and others tragic — of how to love and how to feel. They teach us how to weather the storm of life, and in the midst of a world that often seems harsh, cold and uncaring, they help us understand that life is always worth living, and that everything happens for a reason.
They’re the voices of scientists, poets and philosophers, perpetuating beauty and knowledge from age to age so that both might never be lost. They whisper to us in the dark corners of our bedrooms and offices after hours, so that we too might be privy to whatever secrets they discovered before their Earthly journeys were complete.
In death, you too can speak to the living.
Just as your ancestors left behind their own voices, so too can you leave yours, so that when your appointed time comes, future generations will still be able to learn from the wisdom you attained in life.
Don’t have time to write a book? Don’t worry about it. Keep a journal. Freewrite for five minutes about your thoughts and feelings. Write letters to friends and family. Your words need not be formally compiled, edited and published by a major press. Some of our most treasured literary artifacts were those that were penned or spoken informally, passed down from teachers to students, parents to children or between friends and lovers.
Our ancestors will always be with us.
In books, we discover that the voices of those who’ve died persist, teaching, exorting, comforting, encouraging, continuing to dwell among each and every one of us. They give us hope for the future, and when we have hope for the future, we feel compelled to offer up our own wisdom, which we pray will be useful to those who come after us.
The next time you want to reconnect with someone from the past, don’t wait until your own demise to be with them. Just pick up a book and read.
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My Dad wrote me letters about the old days while I was in college. What a nice resource. There’s a lot to be said for the old tradition of passing down stories about family, cultural myths and about things that happened at particular places. While that tradition may be dying out, journals, nonfiction, blogs, letters to our kids, etc. can help the stories–and those who told them–live on. Nice post.
Hey Malcolm, thanks for your comment. I think the tradition has continued on, albeit in an electronic form. I do also hope for a return of traditional media, however, because I think it’ll prove to be much more durable in the long term.
Do you still have your letters? If so, do you go back and read them every now and then? It must be nice to have something like that to return to from time to time. I’d imagine you’d probably get something new out of them every time you read them.