THE THREAD
I sometimes write in response to the daily headlines, but lately I’ve struggled to find words in response to some of the recent news—let alone how to actually discern my own feelings and inklings of thought. At times I wonder if my lack of response indicates a slight loss or diminishment of my empathy, my conscience, my soul. Have two years of pandemic living slowly chipped away at my capacity for human compassion and consciousness? When push came to shove, did I ditch my soul and further numb myself?
Yet I also believe that souls are both tough and tender things. I believe a soul works in ways that are always out of sync with the 24-hour news cycle, even as we must face the actual state of our world and humanity. I believe a soul is always indwelling, even in the midst of retreat to survival mode. A quick reaction of the gut or a flicker of a synapse in the brain might say one thing, which always contains its own truth. But it seems to me that those initial reactions often are what I end up using as a shield against myself, keeping me from seeing both the deeper hurt and deeper hope that need slower time to work out what my whole being is actually experiencing and needing to process.
This takes time. Silence and stillness help. Dreaming and daydreaming help. Poetry and music and art help. And I must first learn to pay attention to the moment in front of me, and to see beyond the breaking news toward what might yet be whole.
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The poem I’m sharing today first appeared in Image two years ago. It will be in my new book, which is now available for pre-order.
CARAVAN I read of a man a thousand miles south who heard a large crowd passing by. He laid down his shears on his father’s land and joined the northbound caravan. At Worlds of Fun my wife asked me if amusement parks are an American thing. I said I’ve heard the tallest rides are now in the Middle East somewhere. The next day my listening screen showed me an ad for the United Arab Emirates. It said: If America no longer amuses you, try Dubai — Book a flight now! Last night I stood on a dimly lit plain face to face with the northbound man. I tried to tell him about Dubai, how we are not allowed to be satisfied. He said he heard of a yard in Missouri where okra will grow full-size without theft, and the blossom will adorn his daughter’s hair, and to him that is the Promised Land.
What I’m currently reading: Nothing. I’m taking a break from excessive words.
What I’m currently listening to: Elvis, The Everly Brothers, John Prine, George Harrison, Bob Dylan, and Larry the Cucumber.
What I’m currently watching: Umm . . . the end of OZARK!
Thanks to those of you who pre-ordered my book already. If you haven’t done so yet, you only have a few weeks left! You can pre-order today on my website.
Have a great week,
Andrew