So it is Written...

I have no idea where this phrase comes from, but it has been echoing through my head all day: "So it is written, so it is said, so it is done." If anyone can help me find the source of this, I would definitely appreciate it. I fear it is too generic and/or too old to be accurately sourced, and I also have a sneaking suspicion plenty of people will confuse it with Pharaoh from the Ten Commandments. However, none of those are my concern. What concerns me is how writing became such a powerful thing for people, and why it still carried weight today - perhaps even more so.

(Incidentally, Pharaoh's quote, "So it is written, so shall it be done" does apply to this situation as well, but his quote is not the actual one going through my head. I have to be fair about these things.)

Back in the old days... like the real old days before we had things like civilization, we had language that allowed us to communicate thoughts. This was an amazing breakthrough, because as people, we were suddenly able to break out of ourselves and share our worldly experiences to others. We could let other people know that a particular plant was good to eat, that danger lurked to the north, that those mushrooms I stumbled upon really shouldn't be eaten unless you are in a safe place for a few hours - stuff like that. We could also gain information from others, and our worlds grew together a little bit.

However, this intricate form of communication was ephemeral. Our experiences were sounds that vanished quickly, their lessons left to the interpretation of others. We could tell about an experience with those mushrooms, but the recipients of that information might not hold it for long, might change it into their information, or lose it altogether - especially if they tried a handful of those mushrooms my ancestors stumbled upon. We could share and even commune, developing experiences into stories and even lessons, but they were temporary.

That's when language took form and everything changed. Man could suddenly live beyond their voice. Experiences could be shared, and through teaching of these written words, people could hear the lessons of their ancestors. Language allowed us to escape the boundaries of time, reaching across the generations to tell people that we existed. We thought things and had feelings and tried those mushrooms. We made great leaps forward as a people, transmitting so much information that we lost the sense of just how amazing our gift was. I think about how archaeologists have discovered ancient clay tablets, and the writing imprinted on them, lasting through the millennia, are things like receipts, debt and obligations, and even complaints about someone's bad working habits. These people, these authors are permanently bound to history, though their words amount to, "Steve is always late." (I don't think the guy's name was Steve.)

Every now and then, I remind myself that any time I write, it's a gift granted to me from my distant ancestors who thrilled each other with stories and handed down words for their descendants to learn from. I can hold handwritten notes from my great-great-granduncle and know that his voice from the 19th century is still bouncing around to this day. Are his words important? Maybe, maybe not. But they remind me of how my words, if I choose to write them down, can feed the minds of countless generations to come. Hopefully, my words will have as great an influence on those people as those first few words of warning did so many thousands of years ago. Hopefully they will carry value. Hopefully they will be heeded, even if it just prevents one person from eating those mushrooms everybody seems to stumble upon.