Another substantial and moving essay. Three years of substantial and moving essays! We are all so indebted to your commitment and beauty of expression.
My only thoughts on your request for feedback - you are a writer, not a podcaster. I think I’m not alone as a reader in saying that audio versions of essays and books don’t do it for me. I lose focus. I want written words that I can sound in my head, reread and admire, reread and finally understand the deep idea conveyed. If I wish you anything this year it is the freedom from feeling you have to record your voice reading your essays. Be the best writer you can be. Period. Get out your canoe, go camping, take a hike, help a grumpy old turtle cross the road!
Thank you for the kind words, Laura, as always. And thanks for the wise advice on the read-alouds/podcasts. You're right that I'm a writer first, and that the audio is a stretch. And like you, as a reader I'm much happier on the page than listening. But there are so many people for whom information travels best by sound, or who simply prefer to listen while doing other things, that it makes sense to reach out to them. I'd love to follow your prescription to launch the canoe rather than put some hours into the audio, and I may do just that, but I'm still thinking about it. I don't have a sense of how many readers would prefer or benefit from the audio, nor how it would help increase the Field Guide's audience. Seems worth the experiment, at least, and maybe it's good to stretch... We'll see. Again, thank you.
Jason - thanks for your thoughtful response, and thanks for your patience with my well-meaning advice/thoughts. I’m so out of the popular cultural loops that I’m no one to be offering advice to others! And you’re right, there’s a potentially large audience out there who will absorb and appreciate your spoken words.
(Disclaimer- there’s a very good chance I’m projecting my own current impatience - cuz I’m about three weeks and counting to a sweet river trip and am tired of sitting in front of a computer!)
No patience required, Laura. I'm genuinely happy you chimed in on a question that's been rattling around my head for a while. It's a question of time/energy spent, and of learning a new skill, and of uncertain value, all of which makes it perfect for procrastination.
I'm happy to hear of folks setting out on river trips. It's been too long since I've done one. Nothing like drifting downstream, paddling along remote lakeshores, camping in the quiet.
Jason, your spoken word is keystone. Substack reaches a global community. When English is not a reader's first language, tone imparts a reasonable quantity of meaning to the listener. I would add that you are not "just" a writer, you are a poet. Spoken word amplifies poetry's content and, I think, carries over into your essays.
All that said, I would rather be in the canoe, too. But a poet/reader just commented on Kinning: Part Two with this: "I loved hearing your read this, great addition. It forced me to slow down and absorb even more!"
Thank you, Katharine. I started my writing life as a poet, but Antarctica shifted me to prose. I still work best at the level of line and image, though. Thank you for the perspective on the read-alouds. Maybe if I recorded them while paddling...
Thank you for posing important questions. The gray fox’s fate, and that of millions of creatures, is heartbreaking…I am beginning to notice more and more how bloodstained our highways are. In a constant state of feeling blood on my hands just for being part of these systems we did not choose yet cannot escape.
The highways are quite bloodstained, Carmine. Once you start to see it, you can't unsee it. My foundational reading on this is an amazing short essay by Barry Lopez titled Apologia. Very much worth your time if you can find it.
And that feeling you describe - complicit but trapped - is I think fundamental to this Anthropocene life. Systems built for us often serve us indirectly, with direct benefits for the builders of systems and none at all for the living world from which the systems were built. But we have to remember the "trapped" part, which is a form of innocence, and look after ourselves even as we strive to reduce the harm.
Thank you for the comment, and for caring, Carmine. Be well.
Jason, we aren't of course, but sometimes I feel we're old friends and I visit your house in these essays. We look out the window and you tell me these painful truths about the world over coffee. We both look out the window at the rapidly changing world and I reply as I'm doing now. There is a practice of the bloodstained highways I've been doing since I was taught it by a senior in 1980. When driving, if I see a dead animal on the side of the road, I always raise one hand off the steering wheel in a half-gassho and mentally say a short prayer for it, involving it's future good life. I also feel a sadness as if I were its mother. That's all. Time to go back home.
Thank you, Michael. You're welcome at my place anytime. And I'd also recommend the Lopez essay to you as well if you haven't read it. The title, Apologia, refers (as I recall) to an old Christian tradition of accounting for one's mistakes. The writing is amazing. But he makes a point as he traverses the country of stopping and taking carcasses off the road, and making a ritual of paying attention to each.
I like yours as well. If we could all acknowledge the deaths, they would mean something we would then attend to.
Jason, I am new to your work and I still have a lot of reading to do. With every new essay I read I get to learn about things I never new. I get sad and angry and desperate, yes, but I also feel wonder about this intricate world we live in. And I am grateful for your time and effort you put on your writing. Thank you!
"Anywhere" is probably the best answer. Just jump in. If we each took care of a species or an acre (or hectare, if you prefer), things would be looking up. There's probably an equivalent bit of wisdom to the one I shared recently - about answering the "what can one person do" question with "don't be one person" and joining a cause - which would be something like "start somewhere" rather than worrying about everywhere. Of course, I'm in the worrying-about-everywhere business, so take my advice with a grain of salt... though I do some small local things too.
The other answer I think more pragmatic activists would suggest would be to find the biggest levers and press on them. That may mean joining productive groups or it may mean working on the most important issue, e.g. climate policy, wetland conservation, etc.
There are no easy answers, but there are lots of solutions.
May I add government to your list, Jason? I tend to watch the recordings of Town Council meetings but I'm forcing myself to show up in person. My next step is to bring a friend. And then -yikes- get in front of the microphone for the sake of the Swannanoa River.
Absolutely. Governance at all levels. That's where most of the levers are. What is done outside of governance is meant to change what happens inside it.
Those microphones are scary, I can confirm. But they're usually leashed to an outlet and rarely escape to cause harm...
Another substantial and moving essay. Three years of substantial and moving essays! We are all so indebted to your commitment and beauty of expression.
My only thoughts on your request for feedback - you are a writer, not a podcaster. I think I’m not alone as a reader in saying that audio versions of essays and books don’t do it for me. I lose focus. I want written words that I can sound in my head, reread and admire, reread and finally understand the deep idea conveyed. If I wish you anything this year it is the freedom from feeling you have to record your voice reading your essays. Be the best writer you can be. Period. Get out your canoe, go camping, take a hike, help a grumpy old turtle cross the road!
Just my thoughts. Many thanks, as always 🌞
Thank you for the kind words, Laura, as always. And thanks for the wise advice on the read-alouds/podcasts. You're right that I'm a writer first, and that the audio is a stretch. And like you, as a reader I'm much happier on the page than listening. But there are so many people for whom information travels best by sound, or who simply prefer to listen while doing other things, that it makes sense to reach out to them. I'd love to follow your prescription to launch the canoe rather than put some hours into the audio, and I may do just that, but I'm still thinking about it. I don't have a sense of how many readers would prefer or benefit from the audio, nor how it would help increase the Field Guide's audience. Seems worth the experiment, at least, and maybe it's good to stretch... We'll see. Again, thank you.
Jason - thanks for your thoughtful response, and thanks for your patience with my well-meaning advice/thoughts. I’m so out of the popular cultural loops that I’m no one to be offering advice to others! And you’re right, there’s a potentially large audience out there who will absorb and appreciate your spoken words.
(Disclaimer- there’s a very good chance I’m projecting my own current impatience - cuz I’m about three weeks and counting to a sweet river trip and am tired of sitting in front of a computer!)
All the best,
Laura
No patience required, Laura. I'm genuinely happy you chimed in on a question that's been rattling around my head for a while. It's a question of time/energy spent, and of learning a new skill, and of uncertain value, all of which makes it perfect for procrastination.
I'm happy to hear of folks setting out on river trips. It's been too long since I've done one. Nothing like drifting downstream, paddling along remote lakeshores, camping in the quiet.
Jason, your spoken word is keystone. Substack reaches a global community. When English is not a reader's first language, tone imparts a reasonable quantity of meaning to the listener. I would add that you are not "just" a writer, you are a poet. Spoken word amplifies poetry's content and, I think, carries over into your essays.
All that said, I would rather be in the canoe, too. But a poet/reader just commented on Kinning: Part Two with this: "I loved hearing your read this, great addition. It forced me to slow down and absorb even more!"
Thank you, Katharine. I started my writing life as a poet, but Antarctica shifted me to prose. I still work best at the level of line and image, though. Thank you for the perspective on the read-alouds. Maybe if I recorded them while paddling...
Thank you for posing important questions. The gray fox’s fate, and that of millions of creatures, is heartbreaking…I am beginning to notice more and more how bloodstained our highways are. In a constant state of feeling blood on my hands just for being part of these systems we did not choose yet cannot escape.
The highways are quite bloodstained, Carmine. Once you start to see it, you can't unsee it. My foundational reading on this is an amazing short essay by Barry Lopez titled Apologia. Very much worth your time if you can find it.
And that feeling you describe - complicit but trapped - is I think fundamental to this Anthropocene life. Systems built for us often serve us indirectly, with direct benefits for the builders of systems and none at all for the living world from which the systems were built. But we have to remember the "trapped" part, which is a form of innocence, and look after ourselves even as we strive to reduce the harm.
Thank you for the comment, and for caring, Carmine. Be well.
Jason, we aren't of course, but sometimes I feel we're old friends and I visit your house in these essays. We look out the window and you tell me these painful truths about the world over coffee. We both look out the window at the rapidly changing world and I reply as I'm doing now. There is a practice of the bloodstained highways I've been doing since I was taught it by a senior in 1980. When driving, if I see a dead animal on the side of the road, I always raise one hand off the steering wheel in a half-gassho and mentally say a short prayer for it, involving it's future good life. I also feel a sadness as if I were its mother. That's all. Time to go back home.
Thank you, Michael. You're welcome at my place anytime. And I'd also recommend the Lopez essay to you as well if you haven't read it. The title, Apologia, refers (as I recall) to an old Christian tradition of accounting for one's mistakes. The writing is amazing. But he makes a point as he traverses the country of stopping and taking carcasses off the road, and making a ritual of paying attention to each.
I like yours as well. If we could all acknowledge the deaths, they would mean something we would then attend to.
I will read that essay, and thank you, both for witnessing/not looking away from the harm, and then reporting on encouraging developments.
Jason, I am new to your work and I still have a lot of reading to do. With every new essay I read I get to learn about things I never new. I get sad and angry and desperate, yes, but I also feel wonder about this intricate world we live in. And I am grateful for your time and effort you put on your writing. Thank you!
It's good to have you here, Fotini. Thank you for reading, and for caring about the intricate world. There's so much to love, and so much to do.
Where to start? That's a question I keep asking myself.
"Anywhere" is probably the best answer. Just jump in. If we each took care of a species or an acre (or hectare, if you prefer), things would be looking up. There's probably an equivalent bit of wisdom to the one I shared recently - about answering the "what can one person do" question with "don't be one person" and joining a cause - which would be something like "start somewhere" rather than worrying about everywhere. Of course, I'm in the worrying-about-everywhere business, so take my advice with a grain of salt... though I do some small local things too.
The other answer I think more pragmatic activists would suggest would be to find the biggest levers and press on them. That may mean joining productive groups or it may mean working on the most important issue, e.g. climate policy, wetland conservation, etc.
There are no easy answers, but there are lots of solutions.
May I add government to your list, Jason? I tend to watch the recordings of Town Council meetings but I'm forcing myself to show up in person. My next step is to bring a friend. And then -yikes- get in front of the microphone for the sake of the Swannanoa River.
PS: I love the microplankton illustration!!🌱
Absolutely. Governance at all levels. That's where most of the levers are. What is done outside of governance is meant to change what happens inside it.
Those microphones are scary, I can confirm. But they're usually leashed to an outlet and rarely escape to cause harm...
Thank you for sharing some with me, Jason.