Aughhhh, I feel myself sliding off my chair and into the cracks of the floor because I know I am so terribly guilty of sentimentality and forcing a false narrative. I try to be true. I think it stems from my love of symbol and meaning, so I look everywhere for it, and I stretch it like a canvas to fit any frame. I’ll consider this a Lenten sacrifice this year and give it up.
It is the impatience. I think that’s why I have not finished working on the poem for the April 5 deadline. I’m supposed to submit it somewhere by tomorrow, but I actually think I need to read Dante before I finish the poem. I think it will be better if I do. I’d love to just finish it and move on with my life, but it’s asking me for more. So I am choosing patience and Dante. Got my copy of The Divine Comedy the day before yesterday.
This is a re-read for me. I first read it over 20 years ago and that was a much quicker reading. I am reading along with a Substack group that posts twice weekly notes and reflections on each canto. I was already planning to read it this year as part of my 40 formative books project. I will be interested to see your response to it.
1. Vashik Armenikus is hosting a Dante Read Along. We are nearing the end of Inferno now, but the previous posts are still available. He will then continue through Purgatorio and Paradiso.
2. The 40 Formative Books thing is something I am doing myself. It is not an official list or anything. I picked 40 books that helped form me as a person and I am rereading them in my 40th year. I have been posting about the experience once a month or so on my Substack.
I wouldn’t view it as a hard deadline. None of us are going to be thrown out of the Habit if we haven’t submitted by tomorrow. Deadlines can help us finish things, but they shouldn’t be your master either.
I am intrigued that you feel the need to read Dante first. I have been slow reading The Divine Comedy this year, at the pace of two cantos a week. It has been enjoyable to read him so slowly.
Well, after doing some reworking after Desi’s feedback, I started to notice some similarities in the poem with Dante (whom I’ve never really read). What set me on the quest though was reading Malcolm Guite’s Lenten poetry collection, The Word in the Wilderness. As I read a few poems and his exposition (some from Inferno and Purgatorio), I realized a similar theme in my own poem though, of course, the details are quite different. I thought I ought to read Dante before I start alluding to The Divine Comedy because I’d hate to make an allusion that doesn’t actually work just because I haven’t read it. Does that make sense? I’d love to hear how you are feeling about it. You’re reading it slowly, which is good.
I frequently write and then toss what I just wrote, realizing that it wasn’t what I needed to write at all. Sometimes I have to do that a few times in order to find the thread that I am really looking for. I find it to be most difficult when I am writing about my own life. So far, stories have arrived in a crystallized form, ready made for me to explore, but I have to sift through layers of my own life and strip away layers of my own false impressions and pat responses before I can really start.
Having heard multiple pieces of this throughout the past week, I am still laughing in surprise and delight as I read how you’ve woven the thoughts together! Even though I don’t write creatively, this resonates hardcore. The temptation in academic writing or just in conversation to MAKE a “so-What” and be sure there’s something meaningful is so strong. But I find myself enjoying honest, small observations in my reading. And—to bring up the current ghost haunting me—that’s probably how you get to an original contribution. It’s just your own small and honest engagement with what you’re observing that does it.
Aughhhh, I feel myself sliding off my chair and into the cracks of the floor because I know I am so terribly guilty of sentimentality and forcing a false narrative. I try to be true. I think it stems from my love of symbol and meaning, so I look everywhere for it, and I stretch it like a canvas to fit any frame. I’ll consider this a Lenten sacrifice this year and give it up.
Same, friend. Honestly, I think there’s often more depth there than we’re giving ourselves time to find. I am so dang impatient, though.
It is the impatience. I think that’s why I have not finished working on the poem for the April 5 deadline. I’m supposed to submit it somewhere by tomorrow, but I actually think I need to read Dante before I finish the poem. I think it will be better if I do. I’d love to just finish it and move on with my life, but it’s asking me for more. So I am choosing patience and Dante. Got my copy of The Divine Comedy the day before yesterday.
Oo, “it’s asking me for more.” Love that.
This is a re-read for me. I first read it over 20 years ago and that was a much quicker reading. I am reading along with a Substack group that posts twice weekly notes and reflections on each canto. I was already planning to read it this year as part of my 40 formative books project. I will be interested to see your response to it.
1. Need to know more about the Substack group.
2. Need to know about 40 Formative Books project, but we can take this convo off of Sara’s post if you’d rather!
Don’t leave on my account, ha. I’d bring y’all snacks if this were my house.
1. Vashik Armenikus is hosting a Dante Read Along. We are nearing the end of Inferno now, but the previous posts are still available. He will then continue through Purgatorio and Paradiso.
2. The 40 Formative Books thing is something I am doing myself. It is not an official list or anything. I picked 40 books that helped form me as a person and I am rereading them in my 40th year. I have been posting about the experience once a month or so on my Substack.
I wouldn’t view it as a hard deadline. None of us are going to be thrown out of the Habit if we haven’t submitted by tomorrow. Deadlines can help us finish things, but they shouldn’t be your master either.
I am intrigued that you feel the need to read Dante first. I have been slow reading The Divine Comedy this year, at the pace of two cantos a week. It has been enjoyable to read him so slowly.
Well, after doing some reworking after Desi’s feedback, I started to notice some similarities in the poem with Dante (whom I’ve never really read). What set me on the quest though was reading Malcolm Guite’s Lenten poetry collection, The Word in the Wilderness. As I read a few poems and his exposition (some from Inferno and Purgatorio), I realized a similar theme in my own poem though, of course, the details are quite different. I thought I ought to read Dante before I start alluding to The Divine Comedy because I’d hate to make an allusion that doesn’t actually work just because I haven’t read it. Does that make sense? I’d love to hear how you are feeling about it. You’re reading it slowly, which is good.
I frequently write and then toss what I just wrote, realizing that it wasn’t what I needed to write at all. Sometimes I have to do that a few times in order to find the thread that I am really looking for. I find it to be most difficult when I am writing about my own life. So far, stories have arrived in a crystallized form, ready made for me to explore, but I have to sift through layers of my own life and strip away layers of my own false impressions and pat responses before I can really start.
Why can't there be more teachers like you? What a hoot your class must be!
Having heard multiple pieces of this throughout the past week, I am still laughing in surprise and delight as I read how you’ve woven the thoughts together! Even though I don’t write creatively, this resonates hardcore. The temptation in academic writing or just in conversation to MAKE a “so-What” and be sure there’s something meaningful is so strong. But I find myself enjoying honest, small observations in my reading. And—to bring up the current ghost haunting me—that’s probably how you get to an original contribution. It’s just your own small and honest engagement with what you’re observing that does it.
❤️❤️❤️
Great! First, loved the caption on the pic! Perfect! Second, I’m guilty of the SO WHAT comment in margins of my students’ papers.