Thank you-for this piece and all the ones that came before. I always look forward to seeing them in my inbox. And happy new year to you as well - may it be filled with just the right amounts of whatever it is you need the most, be it warmth, a chilly saunter through fog, or reasons to pause editing to witness a bit of life that needs witnessing (and everything in between). :)
From my commonplace book: "The lostness and sinking of things, so close to the ordinariness of our lives. I was mending my salmon net one summer afternoon, leaning over the side of my boat in a broad eddy near the mouth of Tenderfoot. I had drawn the net partway over the gunwale to work on it, when a strong surge in the current pulled the meshes from my hand. As I reached down to grasp the net again I somehow lost hold of my knife, and watched half-sickened as it slipped from my hand and sank out of sight in the restless, seething water." ... Always glad to see Haines get more attention. His work has been a touchstone, over and over, for decades.
The type of exchange you describe is like food for me: "It is a magical thing, this exchange of passion for creative work and creative people, and it is something worth getting out of bed for. Isn’t that what brings us all together here?"
Oh my goodness you are a BABY in that photo, which I remember from an original post. Hard to believe we’ve been pals that long. I kinda prefer the further-grizzled, long- and grey- (distinguishingly) locked, still irritable yet immensely sensitive you. I’d say ‘Happy New Year,’ but that’s not what us curmudgeons do. xx
How swiftly the solid bottom of one's life can go.
Thank you for this. A great place to begin a conversation with oneself that can lead to deeper melancholy of the dark days of winter or weave it’s way through greater rest and resolve.
"Yes, I am grateful for my good fortune in how and where I live, that I can share these stories of the appreciation of books and art, but I also feel ashamed. I am a generally happy participant in a system that gives so much to a relative few of us while also trampling people who only need the simplest of resources that are utterly denied them. We could meet everyone’s needs. We choose not to do so."
Chris, you perfectly described how I've been feeling for years.....thank you for putting these feelings into words.
Chris, more than any other newsletter, I look forward to yours, and what a treasure trove this one was: great book recommendations and a way to give some material aid, if one can, to those harmed by anthropogenic climate change. Consider it done.
Many summers ago, I flew off to Anchorage to intern for a small public interest environmental defense law firm. I was surrounded by outdoorsy fellow interns who were more than happy to tow along a greenhorn (or whatever the camping-specific term is for an eternal newb). So we went all over the place as campers. And it was still safe to hitchhike! The internship itself marked some important growth on my part; I proved not to be cut out for the practice of law, as it turns out, but I learned something about accepting and responding to critique. And the surroundings were unique and almost painfully beautiful. My late mother, who was literally afraid of high mountains, even came out for a visit while I was there, and I'm glad she was able to have that experience.
That was more than 30 years ago, and I'm sure that the devastation of nature (including us humans) has continued apace. I live almost halfway across the world from Alaska now, and I'm not sure I'll have the budget or energy to get back there. For those and many other reasons, I very much look forward to digging into at least one of the books you mentioned. ("Silences So Deep" is available as an audiobook if I have any fellow readers out there with tired eyes!)
There’s so much here, and it feels more an end-of-phase-shift recognition than end-of-year. What will garner our attention in the coming phases? Let’s hope more of this, and Bison Range and starry nights, and less of whatever has driven us to where we feel at a loss.
I am late to reading this piece but your comments about sharing books and tracing connections through them are powerful and something I had not brought fully to mind until now. I have books that I recommend to people and pick up myself. Now it feels like forming friendships with people, both the writers and the recommenders, through those pages. I appreciate that insight.
I first heard Adams on the wonderful and now defunct podcast Meet The Composer, and more recently on The Wind, where he talked about his projects with Aeolian harps. All good listens if you want some behind the scenes content with him.
Thanks for sharing these threads connecting to Haines, Chris. His memoir feels like a book I should read during these winter nights. Especially since I feel freshly haunted by Lopez’s “Arctic Dreams.” Here’s to wintering in body and spirit!
Lovely evocative writing--your newsletter is one I immediately read. I love these synchronistic connections we make and oh how they bring me delight. I’m listening to Become Ocean as I write this! All the best in the coming New Year. ❤️
Thank you-for this piece and all the ones that came before. I always look forward to seeing them in my inbox. And happy new year to you as well - may it be filled with just the right amounts of whatever it is you need the most, be it warmth, a chilly saunter through fog, or reasons to pause editing to witness a bit of life that needs witnessing (and everything in between). :)
From my commonplace book: "The lostness and sinking of things, so close to the ordinariness of our lives. I was mending my salmon net one summer afternoon, leaning over the side of my boat in a broad eddy near the mouth of Tenderfoot. I had drawn the net partway over the gunwale to work on it, when a strong surge in the current pulled the meshes from my hand. As I reached down to grasp the net again I somehow lost hold of my knife, and watched half-sickened as it slipped from my hand and sank out of sight in the restless, seething water." ... Always glad to see Haines get more attention. His work has been a touchstone, over and over, for decades.
The type of exchange you describe is like food for me: "It is a magical thing, this exchange of passion for creative work and creative people, and it is something worth getting out of bed for. Isn’t that what brings us all together here?"
My pipes froze for almost a week!
Oh my goodness you are a BABY in that photo, which I remember from an original post. Hard to believe we’ve been pals that long. I kinda prefer the further-grizzled, long- and grey- (distinguishingly) locked, still irritable yet immensely sensitive you. I’d say ‘Happy New Year,’ but that’s not what us curmudgeons do. xx
How swiftly the solid bottom of one's life can go.
Thank you for this. A great place to begin a conversation with oneself that can lead to deeper melancholy of the dark days of winter or weave it’s way through greater rest and resolve.
"Yes, I am grateful for my good fortune in how and where I live, that I can share these stories of the appreciation of books and art, but I also feel ashamed. I am a generally happy participant in a system that gives so much to a relative few of us while also trampling people who only need the simplest of resources that are utterly denied them. We could meet everyone’s needs. We choose not to do so."
Chris, you perfectly described how I've been feeling for years.....thank you for putting these feelings into words.
Chris, more than any other newsletter, I look forward to yours, and what a treasure trove this one was: great book recommendations and a way to give some material aid, if one can, to those harmed by anthropogenic climate change. Consider it done.
Many summers ago, I flew off to Anchorage to intern for a small public interest environmental defense law firm. I was surrounded by outdoorsy fellow interns who were more than happy to tow along a greenhorn (or whatever the camping-specific term is for an eternal newb). So we went all over the place as campers. And it was still safe to hitchhike! The internship itself marked some important growth on my part; I proved not to be cut out for the practice of law, as it turns out, but I learned something about accepting and responding to critique. And the surroundings were unique and almost painfully beautiful. My late mother, who was literally afraid of high mountains, even came out for a visit while I was there, and I'm glad she was able to have that experience.
That was more than 30 years ago, and I'm sure that the devastation of nature (including us humans) has continued apace. I live almost halfway across the world from Alaska now, and I'm not sure I'll have the budget or energy to get back there. For those and many other reasons, I very much look forward to digging into at least one of the books you mentioned. ("Silences So Deep" is available as an audiobook if I have any fellow readers out there with tired eyes!)
There’s so much here, and it feels more an end-of-phase-shift recognition than end-of-year. What will garner our attention in the coming phases? Let’s hope more of this, and Bison Range and starry nights, and less of whatever has driven us to where we feel at a loss.
"love unbound by presence and the lingering melancholy from the lack thereof." This.
Thank you for all of this.
i wear the coat i inherited from my dad too. i wore his boots this week too. even though they are several sizes to big for me,
thank you for writing
I am late to reading this piece but your comments about sharing books and tracing connections through them are powerful and something I had not brought fully to mind until now. I have books that I recommend to people and pick up myself. Now it feels like forming friendships with people, both the writers and the recommenders, through those pages. I appreciate that insight.
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.
-- Walt Whitman, “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer”
Your description of going out in your yoga shorts reminded me a little of this. ☺️
Thanks so much for the book recommendations & for the reminder of what we shoulder -- with warmth and also with weight -- from our fathers.
I first heard Adams on the wonderful and now defunct podcast Meet The Composer, and more recently on The Wind, where he talked about his projects with Aeolian harps. All good listens if you want some behind the scenes content with him.
Here’s to creative work in 2023. Love and cheers to you! And thank you for that poem --
Thanks for sharing these threads connecting to Haines, Chris. His memoir feels like a book I should read during these winter nights. Especially since I feel freshly haunted by Lopez’s “Arctic Dreams.” Here’s to wintering in body and spirit!
Lovely evocative writing--your newsletter is one I immediately read. I love these synchronistic connections we make and oh how they bring me delight. I’m listening to Become Ocean as I write this! All the best in the coming New Year. ❤️