Dear friends,
Hallo from Ireland. I am home for a brief week before going back on the road for two more weeks… then this four-month odyssey of a tour will end on August 2nd when I land back in New York City. My slippers and trusty tea-flask have served me well by being a portable home along the way. Alongside that, the bag, and underneath all that, good friends whose company and stories I relish sharing in, whether in person or on the phone.
Anyway, all of that is to locate myself. And I wonder where you are located, too. At home. On the road. Reading this in a queue. At work. In bed. Going on holiday. Coming back. Up too late. Being somewhere you’re not supposed to be. Going somewhere you’re supposed to. Being in between. Hallo to you there.
Our two poems this week are a certain act in the art of location-making. Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe locates herself in the story and experience of her name (we have a poem from her, as well as a Poetry Unbound Plus: a conversation, which I thoroughly enjoyed). And J. Estanislao Lopez locates himself in a story by retelling it, reframing it, undoing it, imagining a voice in a biblical narrative where — hitherto — he had not heard a voice.
This week I will drive to the coast that I love, and take a walk along a path that has an old dreaming chair, and a fairy bridge that a beloved friend stood on once. I always see him there. I’ll take a walk along a beach and look at the flat water of southwest Donegal. I’ll see some friends, and I’ll take a deep breath before going back on the road for the last few weeks of this tour. I’ve got a few interviews to prepare for, so I’ll get up early and read in the early blue light. Tea and friends and slippers and stories will accompany me here, too.
Some location-making is easy and it comes naturally: you’re in the routine without even noticing the routine. Other times, abrupt changes mean the routine is erased, or amended, or is noticed in a new way because of some absence, some modification. In times like this, the practices that ground can be a comfort, or they can seem strangely voided. But even the void has something to say, and it is worthwhile listening to, however strange.
My question this week is a story-based one:
What have you done today that sets you in your location, wherever it is, however temporary or permanent it seems?
I’ll look forward to being grounded in the stories of your groundedness.
Thanks friends,
Pádraig
PS: I’ll be teaching a five-part online course this autumn, Sunday nights, for two hours, on literary readings of peculiar biblical texts. I approach the art of these stories in deep respect for the artistry of the — mostly anonymous — original writers. So this is an exploration of art, and it’s mostly for those who wish to enjoy a small safari through powerful literature (and come out alive). More details next week.
Simply for the joy of it, if you’re interested in a 45-minute lecture from the outgoing Oxford Professor of Poetry, Alice Oswald, have a listen to it here. Her lectures are like dreamscapes: classic Greek mythology combines with reflections on rivers, hares, simile, manifestos, language, poetry, and humility. Her lectures are poems. I listen and free associate and am enthralled by the wonder of her wondrousness.
The Latest from Poetry Unbound
Monday
Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe — “Blue” (Listen here)
BONUS: A Conversation with 13 Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe (Listen here)
Friday
J. Estanislao Lopez — “Alternate Ending: The Escape of Jephthah’s Daughter” (Listen here)
You can also listen on Spotify, poetryunbound.org, or wherever podcasts are found.
Poetry in the World
U.S.A.
Open Your World with Poetry | Rhinebeck, NY
I’ll be back at the Omega Institute in New York leading another weeklong retreat, October 1-6. Discussions, readings, and writing sessions exploring the place of poetry, craft, language, and form in our lives. Open for all who love writing or reading poetry — or want to! While the format and numbers will be similar to 2022’s event, we will include small groups, and the poems and prompts will be different to the previous year. Details, registration, and information about scholarships here.
Today I sat inside by my warm fire and watched the wind whip across the garden.
Being close to nature is deeply grounding and necessary for my well-being .
There is something that centres me .. no matter which country I am in .. if I can see trees or flowers , or walk amongst them .. my system regulates and I can take full breaths .
I am newly moved to a new city, to a new job, and I preach my first sermon this morning for my new congregation. And I am spending the early hours before my family awakens to have a cup of coffee on the new (to me) couch in the parsonage library. Because I carry my books with me when I move to a new home, so that the stories that have carried me from place to place to place can hold me in this new place, too.