I love this: "I have lost the consolation of faith/though not the ambition to worship"
I grew up with a Catholic mother, a Presbyterian then atheist father, attended catechism and 4 years of evangelical missionary school, and this quote really speaks to me.
I find myself looking now to art, to writing, to literature, to nature, for something to worship--to take the place of the --what I now see as childish--myths that shaped my faith growing up.
I love that quote so much, and it speaks to the spiritual state I've lived with for most of my life: a contradiction. I think that this energy does carry over to art, though. It's a type of worship. I always say that my writing is my form of prayer.
I've just started an online writing residency for 2025 and am trying to figure out what my poetry manuscript is about, what story/s its telling, and what form it should take.
This post's advice is very timely in that the form should fit the story, or the meaning.
Just a few hours ago I thought to myself, maybe I can write this book in a form inspired by my Substack blog. It doesn't have to take the form of a typical poetry collection.
I actually really love this idea of a novel-poem without titles for poems where the narrative is meandering, drifting.
Mine is not a book solely about loss, but I'm quite inspired, I think, by the most recent blog post I've written about the death of my grandmother (on Jan 2nd 2025) which I feel takes this drifitng form that you're speaking to in this post.
What scares me perhaps is the amount of work it would take to turn a manuscript draft that's in a typical poetry collection format and transform it (through re-writing) into a blended form that's part blog, part book, part novel-poem.
Much to think about! Thank you so much for sharing this post, Grant!
I will share it with the rest of the resident group that I'm a part of this year.
Oh, thank you so much for your comments, and I'm so glad this was useful. If the form you decide upon is meaningful and right for your material, my guess is that the hard work won't feel like hard work. I hope you experiment and blend forms. And thanks so much for sharing this with your resident group!
“ there is nothing in me now of what I was before”
This is so relatable. What a beautiful essay to wake up to this morning. Grant gonna listen to this episode on your podcast. This is exactly what I needed to read this morning. I’ve been doing a complete U-Haul of my entire house after long-term house partner moved on.
Even though this happened with mutual agreement, it touches all the other losses and the necessity to clear more.
I love the feeling of spaciousness, of emptiness and the clarity it brings.
Thanks so much, Prajna! I'm so glad this resonated. He's so wise and insightful on the podcast, so I'm glad you're going to listen. I'm sorry for the loss in your life. It doesn't get any easier, does it? And ... you're right: one loss touches another loss.
I love this: "I have lost the consolation of faith/though not the ambition to worship"
I grew up with a Catholic mother, a Presbyterian then atheist father, attended catechism and 4 years of evangelical missionary school, and this quote really speaks to me.
I find myself looking now to art, to writing, to literature, to nature, for something to worship--to take the place of the --what I now see as childish--myths that shaped my faith growing up.
I love that quote so much, and it speaks to the spiritual state I've lived with for most of my life: a contradiction. I think that this energy does carry over to art, though. It's a type of worship. I always say that my writing is my form of prayer.
I've just started an online writing residency for 2025 and am trying to figure out what my poetry manuscript is about, what story/s its telling, and what form it should take.
This post's advice is very timely in that the form should fit the story, or the meaning.
Just a few hours ago I thought to myself, maybe I can write this book in a form inspired by my Substack blog. It doesn't have to take the form of a typical poetry collection.
I actually really love this idea of a novel-poem without titles for poems where the narrative is meandering, drifting.
Mine is not a book solely about loss, but I'm quite inspired, I think, by the most recent blog post I've written about the death of my grandmother (on Jan 2nd 2025) which I feel takes this drifitng form that you're speaking to in this post.
What scares me perhaps is the amount of work it would take to turn a manuscript draft that's in a typical poetry collection format and transform it (through re-writing) into a blended form that's part blog, part book, part novel-poem.
Much to think about! Thank you so much for sharing this post, Grant!
I will share it with the rest of the resident group that I'm a part of this year.
Oh, thank you so much for your comments, and I'm so glad this was useful. If the form you decide upon is meaningful and right for your material, my guess is that the hard work won't feel like hard work. I hope you experiment and blend forms. And thanks so much for sharing this with your resident group!
“ there is nothing in me now of what I was before”
This is so relatable. What a beautiful essay to wake up to this morning. Grant gonna listen to this episode on your podcast. This is exactly what I needed to read this morning. I’ve been doing a complete U-Haul of my entire house after long-term house partner moved on.
Even though this happened with mutual agreement, it touches all the other losses and the necessity to clear more.
I love the feeling of spaciousness, of emptiness and the clarity it brings.
Thanks so much, Prajna! I'm so glad this resonated. He's so wise and insightful on the podcast, so I'm glad you're going to listen. I'm sorry for the loss in your life. It doesn't get any easier, does it? And ... you're right: one loss touches another loss.