* not with ink

Last week, one of my lovely friends sent me an email with a poem (few things make me happier), because she had been "musing about strength and how one can develop and foster her own strength etc," alongside a recent conversation we'd had.* The poem was perfectly apt, and so we talked a bit about strength, and endurance and how life always has glitches and struggles that we cannot avoid. There is only one way ahead, and we have to go there. Going where you have to go.  Doing the needful, another friend calls it. But doing it in a certain way. One that expects capacity to increase, I guess, and believes that going where you have to go is ultimately going to be GOOD. I often think about this when things are overwhelming, or something in me resists what is inevitable, unavoidable, or already chosen: do I believe that the outcome will be good? That it will be worth it? Why or why not? If I do , then how do I help myself press on? If I don't , why do I feel the nee...

All the things. I want to write about all the things. About a book I read last week called The Remains of the Day . About visiting the west coast and the mountains and some delightful friends. About the mundane days. About my summer placement at a hospital and whether I'll become a spiritual care professional. About the haircut I'm getting today. About the encouraging words from my profs this semester. About all the feelings that surprise me and overwhelm me and give me hope. About our dog named Pig. About our rooftop terrace and summer patios. I have one hour before my haircut, and the to-do list is long. Schoolwork, housework, church work, creative work - there are all kinds of things to be done. But I took the dog for a long walk anyway, down the street and across a bridge, and past a walk-a-thon, and up the hill and over another bridge, and beside the dogpark (not in it, since an incident earlier in the week), and home again. And I breathe more slow...

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God  is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly  the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit  object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor  Love of the beauty of the world  Love of religious practices  and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thi...

Last week, I introduced you to one of my recently-discovered heroines . Today I'd like to explain a little bit about what I see in her life and writings that grabs my attention, and in my next post, I'll share some quotes & thoughts from her works. Here's why I'm drawn in by Simone Weil: From a very young age, she strove for equality for all humanity , and believed in the need to care for the afflicted. Although she experienced profound mystical moments , and had a deep belief in the Christian faith, she died "outside" the Catholic church, having refused to be baptized - she felt it would compromise her intellectual integrity, and separate her from those with whom she most desired solidarity. Simone trusted herself and her experiences - when she first experienced Christ's presence, it was wholly unexpected and unknown to her. In fact, she wrote that "God in his mercy had prevented me from reading the mystics, so that it should be evident t...

Several years ago, I picked up a small biography of a woman named Simone Weil. I had little idea about who she was, or why I had heard her name, but she intrigued me, and I read the story of her life that summer. I found it fascinating, but I had never read any of her writing, and was unfamiliar with much of her context. The weight of her words and life did not fully sink into my heart. This year, school has provided me with the opportunity to study her life and writing in more depth, and I am profoundly glad. She is, for me, a kindred spirit and great hero.  So without further ado, I would like to introduce you to Simone Weil (pronounced Vay) .  Simone Weil was born in 1909, in France. Her father was a medical doctor, her parents were both agnostic, and they came from a Jewish heritage. She had one older brother, Andre, who would go on to be a significant mathematician in the area of algebra and geometry.  During WWI, her father served as a military doc...

At my current church, there is an adorable old man named George. There's something about old-man Georges that get to me. (It's probably not hard for you all to figure it out.)  This George is even older than my Grampie. And on top of being a centarian, he is also a poet. In fact, when I initially expressed interest in his poetry, he brought me three of his four volumes the following week (he couldn't find any copies of Volume 1). A few weeks ago, during coffee hour (after the early service, 8 or 10 of us sit around and eat a breakfast of cookies and coffee), we got to discussing the weather, and this slow movement towards spring. One of my friends/colleagues there is a Maritimer, and she is particularly fond of the winter season. I am not so inclined. She was lamenting the ugliness of this liminal season before spring, and the inevitability of wet feet and dirty half-snow everywhere. "I look forward to the slush!" George piped up. And we all laughed. ...

On Monday night, I will be driving down to Hamilton to celebrate the launch of a new book from Tyndale House Publishing: A Year of Living Prayerfully . I cannot tell you how excited I am to read this book. Or more accurately, to re-read this book. You see, a few years back, my friend Jared asked me for a favour - would I help him edit a book excerpt for a book that didn't yet exist? He was prepping material for a literary agent, and wanted a pair of eyes to help him send the best possible material. I, of course, said yes. I love reading, I love editing, and I love my friend Jay. The chapter he sent me was crazy. It was fun, it was lively, it was thought-provoking. I wasn't the only one who loved it - the literary agent signed him, and then they approached several major Christian publishing houses, and you already know how this ends: Tyndale signed him. So he asked me for another favour. Would I be a pair of eyes for the full manuscript? Yes. Of course, yes. Su...

I imagine the name Christina Rossetti doesn't ring a bell to most of you. But you might know of her work; most well-known of her poems is the Christmas carol "In the Bleak Midwinter" (I'm a huge fan of Sarah McLachlan's version ). She also wrote a poem called " Goblin Market " and one entitled " Who Has Seen the Wind? " and many, many others. She is one of the most well-known female poets out of England, up there with Elizabeth Barrett Browning. And alongside her poetry, she wrote devotional and theological works. (What a delight to find a new kindred spirit!) Tonight, I am reading her rather obscure Letters and Spirit: Notes on the Commandments  (not even listed on Wikipedia !) as the focus of my final paper for last semester's class on Women Interpreters of the Bible. Yes, last semester... my prof suggested I take an extension, what with the wedding and all - and while I was reluctant, it did  make a whole lot of sense and relieve a...

There is nothing funnier and more heartwarming than listening to grown adults of all shapes and sizes and styles read their childhood or adolescent words. And there is nothing more terrifying than deciding to take part yourself. Dan Misener has been hosting Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids  events across the country since 2007. The podcast ran for a season on CBC last summer, and new podcast episodes are coming soon! One of them features yours truly... ** It was a total whim, signing up to read my awful adolescent poetry. And of course, when the day arrived, the event was sold out, and NONE of my friends had purchased tickets, I was NOT feeling very excited to bare my teenage soul to an audience of strangers. Thanks, Karen, for being my cheering squad & photographer! Thankfully, Twitter provided a ticket for the lovely K-Ho, and I met her in a dark space that slowly filled to capacity... As I listened to other readers, I was both reassured and further terri...

Earlier this semester, one of my profs gave me a book called Enduring Grace: Living Portraits of Seven Women Mystics by Carol Flinders. It was a perfect gift out of the leftovers of her overflowing bookshelves... Although I'm only two portraits in, I am floored and amazed and encouraged. (I know, I am a weird, weird woman.) It's likely that I'll have many excerpts to share over the summer...here is the first round! My favourite 13th century German mystic, Mechthild of Magdeburg wrote this: "If I am truly to show forth the goodness of God, then I am obliged to speak of myself." A woman who loved God and knew her own self/voice. Boom. --- This poem excerpt runs along the same lines: Fish cannot drown in water, Birds cannot sink in air, Gold cannot perish In the refiner's fire. This has God given to all creatures, To foster and seek their own nature, How then can I withstand mine? --- And here's a statement from the author about g...

Last week I wrote a paper about Dietrich Bonhoeffer 's views on church mission and leadership. I didn't have (take) as much time to read as I would've liked, and kept my focus on related content, rather than the whole of his life and writings. But I came across these two quotes that didn't fit anywhere in my paper, and need to record them for posterity: on being separated from loved ones: "It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap; he doesn't fill it, but on the contrary, he keeps it empty and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain." and on suffering: "The idea that we could have avoided many of life's difficulties if we had taken things more cautiously is too foolish to be entertained for a moment...To renounce a full life and its real joys in order to avoid pain is neither Christian nor human."

It's been a slow start to the extra-curricular reading this year. But hey, school. Actually, if I can admit it, it's been a slow start to the curricular reading too... Eep. Anyway, here's what I've read so far: The Stonecarvers by Jane Urquhart - I liked it quite a bit. I am really digging Canadian lit these days, pieces of my cultural heritage and place names that are familiar to me in reality as well as theory.I like the rhythm of Urquhart's writing, and found this historically enlightening as ell as engaging. Open Secrets by Alice Munro - This collection of short stories was for the book club I'm in, and I love love love my book club. I also quite liked this book, and the overlapping but not-quite-interwoven storylines. Also, as I wrote in an email to the book club ladies, "So many creepy men, so many strong women." Men in the Off Hours by Anne Carson - Meh. I am not familiar enough with classic Greek or 18th century Russia...

On Tuesday, mail arrived for me. A small package with a book inside. And inside the book was this page. How utterly thrilling!! I played a teensy-tiny hardly-more-than-nothing part in the translation of this Haitian novella into English, and it is an unexpected  honour  to be recognized for it. Doesn't everyone dream of seeing their name in the acknowledgements of a real, live, published book!? Huge congrats to Matt, who translated the story and found a publishing home for his work! I can't wait to read it; my initial impression of the portion I've already read is that this will be a lyrical and educational read. I'll keep you all posted. Or you can pick up your own copy! Support the arts! Hooray for small presses and Canadian work!

Last day of the year. Last books of the year. Breakfast at Tiffany's and Three Stories - Truman Capote . The only fiction I read during the semester, this was for a book club meeting that I didn't make it to (thanks a lot, winter cold!). However, I enjoyed it immensely. Not only the title short story, but the three others included in this small volume. I would like to read more Capote. And watch the classic film adaptation with Audrey Hepburn. As soon as the semester ended, I ravenously picked up more fiction. Actually, that's not entirely true. Before I hit up any fiction, on the silent retreat, I leafed (leaved?) through several books in the monastery guest house's little library, skimming a bunch of Nouwen, and ultimately sitting down to read this book: Christian Mystics: Their Lives and Legacies Throughout the Ages - Ursula King . I enjoyed this and found it utterly fascinating. For one, it features several women of prominence in their own time and culture...

I'm reading faster than I'm writing these days, so here is a snapshot of May-July's books: The Sacred Journey by Frederick Buechner . A fantastic spiritual memoir that my friend Aimee lent me back in October. I delayed reading it, because I knew I wouldn't want to finish it. Then I read it slowly and in pieces, and I loved it. Here are my 3 favourite excerpts:  Listen. Your life is happening. You are happening. You, the rooster, the clock, the workmen, your stomach, are all happening together. A journey, years long, has brought each of you through thick and thin to this moment in time as mine has also brought me. Think back on that journey. Listen back to the sounds and sweet airs of your journey that give delight and hurt not and to those that give no delight at all and hurt like Hell. Be not affeard. The music of your life is subtle and elusive and like no other - not a song with words, but a song without words - a singing, clattering music to gladden the heart...

Inebriate of Air - am I - And Debauchee of Dew - Reeling - thro endless summer days - From inns of Molten Blue ... Oh Sacrament of summer days, Oh Last Communion in the Haze - Permit a child to join. Thy sacred emblems to partake - Thy consecrated bread to take And thine immortal wine!

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st...

Folks, I'm falling behind on my book recaps, and I bet you're all desperately sad. (note: sarcasm) Here are a bunch of recent reads: I picked up A Recipe for Bees by Gail Anderson-Dargatz because of how much I had enjoyed The Cure for Death by Lightning . Of the two, I prefer Death by Lightning , but the Recipe for Bees is not without merit. It is, in some ways, Stone Angel -esque. The protagonist, Augusta, reflects back on her life as she ponders the meaning of a vision that seems to indicate her death is approaching. She remembers other moments of "second sight" and walks through the difficult years of her marriage. She is sharp and honest, demanding and insecure - like all of us. I imagine that I will face my own aging and mortality, failures and insecurities much like Augusta does. What I'm not sure is whether I like her for it, and by extension, whether I will like myself. At the end of the day, it's a decent read, and my heart is soft toward Augu...

Dang. After my last "book report" about how beautiful I found The Winter Vault , I hesitated to start a new read; how would anything be half as good? Then I picked up this book: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close , by Jonathan Safron Foer. I opened it knowing only that it was about a boy who lost his father in the Twin Towers, and had been made into a film that was considered not-as-good-as-the-book. And really, that is all one needs to know.  But it is so much more than that. It is the story of three generations, of love and loss and secrets and space and the way family is intertwined, for better or worse. It is surprising and wrenching, and a little bit magical. The tension was too intense for me at times (in the best way possible), and I found myself needing to take small breaks, setting the book on my lap, reminding myself to breathe, and sipping on iced tea in the sun. Another highly recommended read, particularly if you like inquisitive children, WWII history...

I finished reading The Winter Vault over a month ago. Then I wrote this post. But I didn't publish it because it is inadequate in its attempts to hint at how beautiful and poignant I found the book. I loved The Winter Vault , by Anne Michaels. A gentle, eloquent unfolding that centers around love and loss (as all stories do) and the travels of one particular couple, Avery and Jean. Toronto, Montreal, Holland Marsh - I love reading books set in places I can picture. There is so much woven all around their propelling drama. The dislocation and relocation of entire cities. Architecture and engineering, creation & destruction, the temporality of art… grief that cannot be shared. Did you know that in 1960, over 100,000 Nubians from Sudan and Egypt were relocated for the construction of the Aswan Dam ? Or that a few years earlier, 6,500 small-town inhabitants along the St. Lawrence River were moved for the construction of a power dam? Neither did I. I still think abou...