Winged Chariots and Writing Projects

It's that time again, when I feel various projects piling up; Andrew Marvell said it so much more eloquently, "But at my back I always hear / Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near."  Of course, the speaker is trying to woo a woman--or maybe just get sex.  I am trying to grade papers and write poems and send work out for possible publication and along the way, write a weekly sermon and finish work for my TEEM requirements.

So this morning, when my brain snapped awake just after 3, I gave myself stern instructions, "In the next three hours, you must make progress on either your sermon or your Jeremiah paper."

I decided that the Jeremiah paper needed to be done first, so I started a pot of coffee and settled in.  By now, I know that one of the secrets to a good writing morning is to do the writing before opening any internet portals, and I followed that formula this morning to great success:  1989 words, for an assignment that asks for 1000-1500 words.  I need to craft a conclusion, and I'm done.

I had some ideas when I started, and the writing flowed easily--the kind of joy I rarely experience with academic writing.  Of course, I didn't need to use many scholarly sources, so it was bound to be much easier, but that's not always a given.  It was also a joy to find my writing going in unanticipated and exciting directions--also, not always a given.  I was surprised, in good ways, and delighted.

Hopefully my sermon will also proceed similarly.  That writing, however, will have to wait until later--that chariot that will deliver me to Spartanburg will need to leave in two-ish hours, which means I need to get ready soon.

Teaching Confirmations and Affirmations

Yesterday afternoon, I went to downtown Spartanburg, to the business office of Hub City publishers, a group which also runs the charming, downtown bookstore.  We had the last meeting with a student who is doing a Capstone project.  We agreed that it's been a success.

It was neat to be in the office space of a small business, with stacks of books and packages waiting to be mailed.  It was good to remember that small businesses are still doing what they do, and even better that it's a business that supports readers and writers--and in Spartanburg.

As I walked in the perfect October afternoon weather, I thought about how Spartanburg reminds me of early 80's Asheville, and I mean that in the best possible way:  small businesses, people walking in safety from traffic, easy to navigate, plentiful parking which is free.  And did I mention the small businesses are varied and charming?

So far, it's been a good teaching week, both in terms of classes and students.  Some of them are students in my classes:  yesterday, one of my students was ablaze with happiness at having made progress on the novel-in-progress.  Some of the students are ones who came to me because of their own creative writing interests, and I was happy to be part of projects, like the Capstone project, or just a wise elder, reminding a student that one can still do creative writing, even if it's not a job, that we can't be sure of what will make us money and what won't and having a creative interest not influenced by monetizing potential might be a net positive.  It's also been past students:  a colleague told me of a student in her class who gave me credit for becoming a competent writer (and happily, my colleague says she's continuing to produce stellar writing).

I am usually happy to perk along, confident that what I am doing matters--but it's nice to have confirmation along the way.

Autumn Odes and Puzzles

We have been in a stretch of perfect autumnal weather:  chilly nights, clear days, before the time change so we still have plenty of time to enjoy this perfect October time.  As I drove down the Cumberland Highway on Saturday, I was struck by how many small towns had piled pumpkins around the "Welcome to ______ " signs.  Pumpkins and hay bales and perhaps a scarecrow that wouldn't scare a soul.

It's not the perfect leaf viewing season, however.  Yesterday I stood on the back deck and stared up at the trees, and I was startled to realize how thin the leaf canopy is.  Many trees dropped their leaves before attaining full autumnal glory--and many trees are still fairly green in leaf.

When we first moved to South Florida, I didn't realize how different the seasons would be.  I didn't miss winter much, and summers seemed similar to South Carolina, but every year I had a fierce yearning for fall.  One year we bought two puzzles, and I still remember the one with the autumnal picture.  It was a nineteenth century town with horses and wagons and a big dance happening in the center of the village.  The trees had the perfect assortment of autumnal leaves and pumpkins dotted the puzzle landscape.

We put that puzzle together in the fall of 2001, when the world felt so topsy-turvy.  It was soothing to put the puzzle together.  

 I was teaching the British literature survey class, and I had Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn" on my brain--those figures on the urn, forever frozen in whatever emotional moment they experienced right then.  I thought the puzzle offered a similar dynamic.

It's an interesting spiritual question that Keats poses:  is it better to be forever poised to kiss the beloved?  Is it better to live in the moment of anticipation, rather than having to deal with all the messy humanness that comes after the kiss, once we truly know our beloved?

And there are larger questions posed by both the urn and the poem:  how do we stay in the here and now?  How do we not get distracted by our sorrows?  How do we maintain our faith, in the face of enormous woes?  For me, during that autumn of 2001 that broke our hearts in so many ways, the answer came in the jigsaw puzzle.

I've never thought of jigsaw puzzles as spiritual practice or meditation aid.  Perhaps I should. 

As these thoughts swirled in my brain, a poem began to emerge.  It's now 25 years old, so the imagery of disaster might feel dated, not something I considered when I composed it.  Despite the dated reference to September 11, I think it holds up relatively well.

Ode on an American Puzzle


These people do not puzzle over how the pieces
of their lives fit together. They know their purpose,
always at the center of the picture.
They will never return home to unfinished
craft projects and unwashed dishes. They will celebrate
continuously at this harvest dance, the deepest
darks of night and winter always at arm’s
length, the leaves always brightly colored,
mounds of pumpkins waiting for transformation,
every woman and man matched, the children tended.

Perhaps that is why I like puzzles.
As buildings melt and planes explode, and even smaller tragedies
rip apart the pieces of a life, I find
a measured calm that even poetry cannot provide.
I sit at this table, free from existential mystery.
I know what picture will emerge as I piece
this project into one. I know that all the parts
have been provided. I know that they will connect.
What other aspect of my life can hope
to offer the same consolation?

An Easy Travel Day

Yesterday was a fairly easy travel day, a pleasant surprise.  I decided to go the way my phone directed me, which took me across I 40, the 2 lane part that's under construction.  It's much easier early in the morning going from east to west.  But I focused on breathing and staying focused on the patch of pavement ahead of me, not the drop off to my right.  I was glad I was in my small Prius.

I stopped along the way at an Artisan's Center in Berea, KY.  I had stopped on my way up, but I was trying to stay ahead of hurricane remnants, so I didn't linger.  Yesterday, there was an art festival on the back grounds, but the weather was cold and blustery, so once again, I didn't linger.

Last night we brought our plants inside because, we, too, are under a freeze warning.  I'll be interested to see if the basil bounces back; something (bugs? squirrels?) has been attacking them outside.  Of course, I'm not sure I want all 3 plants to bounce back because I don't use all the basil.  Usually I'm happy to just enjoy the sight of the plants, but less so when they're bedraggled, the way they have been recently.

I will spend some time today trying to get back into regular rhythms.  I haven't done much exercising in the past week.  I need to scale back my eating and go back to alcohol free days.  I also have some writing to do for these classes I just took.

But first, church!  Back across a different set of mountains, on a much chillier morning than last week.

The Long Drive Home from a TEEM Week

Soon I will put the last of my stuff in the car.  Sunrise comes later this much further north (at 7:57), so I'm not going to leave until 6:30 or 7.  Gone are the days when I would leave at 4 a.m.; driving that many hours in the dark is just too tiring.  Is this a sign of getting older or just a sign of being more cautious?  Part of it is wanting to linger in a lovely hotel room a bit longer, which is always balanced by knowing how much driving lies ahead and wanting to get that over with.

I've been in Indianapolis, taking the last required classes, another task done on the path to ordination in the Lutheran church (ELCA, the more progressive expression of the of Lutheranism in North America).  

We spent the first two days of the week studying Lutheran Liturgy, then a Wednesday workshop on Lutheran Polity, and we finished the week on Thursday and Friday studying Hebrew prophets, those prophets from the B.C.E. time period, the ones at the end of the Old Testament part of the Christian Bible.

I've studied those prophets before during an Old Testament class during my first year at Wesley Theological Seminary.  That class was asynchronous, and the material was not nearly as compelling as the last 2 days have been.  The history of the centuries before the Greek and Roman empires is much more clear to me now, and especially how we get from the time of David and Solomon to the Assyrian  and Babylonian exiles.

I came back to my hotel room on Thursday and made this Facebook post, which was just as true at the end of the day on Friday:  "Today and tomorrow, our TEEM group is doing a deep, scholarly dive into (B.C.E.) Hebrew prophets, a topic which seems very timely in ways I both did and did not expect."

I was impressed with various teaching techniques throughout the week.  During our Lutheran Liturgy class, Bishop Strickland had breaks where we sung, along with information about how we might use the songs in worship. Dr. Parker, our OT Prophets class instructor, had a variety of artifacts to show us or techniques (like using an imprinting device in clay) to show us how people wrote.  We worked in small groups for a break in lecturing, and that small group work will lead to papers we need to write.  For some of the prophets, we read the work out loud in a variety of ways, which made it more interesting to hear and understand.

I always learn a lot in classes that I take, both in subject matter and how to present the subject matter.  I go home with ideas for how to improve my own classrooms.

I've been with this group of classmates twice now, and my time with them is over, at least this time as a TEEM cohort.  It was a strange goodbye yesterday.  Any time of parting makes me think of all the other times of leaving, makes me melancholy and missing all the people who have passed through my life.

So maybe it's good to have a transition time of driving in the car, before hurling myself back into the rest of my life.  I do feel happy that I'm returning to regular life that is life giving, unlike pre-pandemic years when I would be returning to a toxic workplace and a boss bellowing about how I shouldn't leave ever again.  I know how lucky I am.

The Second Half of TEEM Week

Last night over dinner, my TEEM cohort exchanged notes over how tired we are.  This onground intensive is, indeed, intense.   We eat breakfast at the hotel, head over to the Synod office meeting space, and we're meeting from 8 until 4 or 5, depending on how long we took for lunch. Lunch is brought in, and we try to be back on task by 1 so that we can be done closer to 4:00.

Monday and Tuesday, we learned about Lutheran Liturgy, the way worship is structured. Yesterday was a 1 day workshop to teach us about Lutheran Polity, how the larger church operates--after a morning studying governing structure, we took a deep dive into church constitutions. We finish the week with Old Testament prophets.

I feel like I had more energy back in June, but let me remember that I only did the workshop and the last half of the week.  Plus, I wasn't in the middle of an onground teaching semester.

I've gotten good ideas for my sermon that I'll preach on Sunday, which happened in June too.  We've also had good worship this week, which has been nourishing.

I've been thinking about my past experiences with the onground intensive model, which has only been for the spiritual director certificate program.  I do wonder how the spiritual experiences compare with low residency MFA programs.

I love the idea of an intensive that blasts requirements out of the way in one week--but having said that, it's not my favorite way to learn.  I'm grateful to have had so many different kinds of educational opportunities throughout my life.  I also realize that my preferred way of learning:  onground, over 12-16 weeks, once or twice a week--it's not a way that can work for most people who are employed full-time, especially not older folks.

I'm also grateful that my current work life doesn't involve sitting at a desk all day, the way we've been doing this week or the way I did as an administrator.  Yes, we do try to move during breaks, but my step count at the end of 8 hour desk days is much lower than my regular teaching days.

I am grateful for so much as we head into the end of this week.  I am most grateful for all my jobs that allow me to be away so that I can be part of this educational experience and for my spouse, who is self-sufficient and holding down our 2 home fronts.

Relaxing Day, Intensive Day

Yesterday was the first day of the onground intensive for the TEEM program.  We'll spend the first two days of the week learning about Lutheran Liturgy, then a Wednesday workshop on Lutheran polity, and we'll finish with a class on Old Testament prophets.  We begin each day with worship/devotion time at 8, and we go until 4 or 5, depending on how much time we take to eat lunch that is brought in for us.

It's an intensive, not a relaxive, and the contrast with Sunday is huge.  Sunday was a restorative day.  I did a lot of sewing and a lot of reading, both for intensive week and for pleasure.  I had a video call with my old Florida quilting group and a phone call with my spouse.

I didn't do any church livestreaming, so it was somewhat strange yesterday to hear people refer to the Bible readings we would have been hearing on Sunday--not the readings, but the recognition that almost everyone else had gone to church before traveling.  It reminded me of how far I travel, and how rare it is to travel 8 hours by car these days.  Or maybe it's only rare in the circles in which I move.

I'm glad I had Sunday to recover from my travels on Saturday, but I'm not sure that yesterday's transition would have been any harder if I had gone with my original plan to drive from North Carolina to Indiana.  I'd have just gone from one kind of intensive to another.

I continue to be happy to have joined this program; I'm impressed with the talents of my cohort.  I feel a bit sad about how far away I live from all of them.  This is my last intensive week, and it's hard to imagine how our paths might cross in the future.

Of course, the past decade has taught me that much can change, so I'm keeping doors and options open.  Maybe we'll have yearly reunions.  Maybe we'll travel.  At the very least, I'm hoping we can continue to pray for each other.