Down a Rabbit Hole

Last week I spent a week in soul-deep fellowship with 23 of my new best friends. It was the first annual Close Reads Podcast retreat, where people from all over the US, who happen to listen to the same podcast about books came to discuss, well...books.

For six hours each day we discussed poems, essays, and books by the inestimable Wendell Berry: A Native Hill, The Unsettling of America, The Memory of Old Jack, Remembering, and A World Lost. My appreciation for this author is far deeper than I could have guessed it would be when we first started. I knew he wrote one of my favorite books, Jayber Crow, but I had no idea the depth of his philosophy or literary prowess until we undertook a deep dive into his works. When we were not talking about those books we were talking about other books--books we have read, books we want to read, books others have read that intrigued us, books that challenge us, books that we hope the podcast will cover. Books.

And when we weren't talking about books we talked about other matters important to the soul such as theology, death, birth, family, dogs, community, singleness, wine, marriage, Truth, Magic, Eastern Orthodox tradition...

Wait, did you say Orthodox tradition?

Yes. I did, and I heard some of the most amazing and thought-provoking ideas about church tradition, theology and death. These are things that have been hidden from us in the American church and perhaps even the Western Protestant church tradition as a whole, and I am stunned at how deeply what some would call "ancient mysticism" resonates with my weary soul.

Have I stepped down the Rabbit Hole? We will see. I need to satisfy this curiosity, and if you know me at all, I am not easily satisfied until I have looked under all the rocks and turned all the leaves.

How do I Know What I Think Unless I Write?

I write to know what I think. If you happen to read it too, that is fine with me, but ultimately I write for myself. For a long time this blog was the outlet I needed to process what was happening in the educational journey of my family, as well as to  encourage fellow sojourners in home education. Then the phrase, "Mom, don't you dare post about that" was heard more and more from my children who were entering adolescence, and I understood that they didn't necessarily want their lives splashed across the internet. As much as I hated to do it, I discontinued publishing new content on that blog, and entered a desert season as a writer that has endured for several years until now.

But now, both of my children are entering adulthood, and I find myself wondering what I want to do when I am done with this homeschooling life. The truth is, my desire to write has never wavered but I have struggled to find the courage to begin again.

Fear is a dreadful thief of inspiration, and I have somehow allowed it to creep in and deter me from being what I desire most to be. Fear of not having something to say, fear of what others will think, fear of the unknown are just a few of the little foxes spoiling this vine. Courage is action despite the presence of fear, and today I have decided that someday, having to explain why I didn't do what I was meant to do all along is worse than all the other fears combined. Courage is the only course. I must just start, and if I fall, I fall. If nothing comes of it, then so be it. On the other hand, if I never start, nothing will surely be the result by default. I don't want to take that risk. A failed effort is one thing, an effort never begun is a failure indeed.