Hunter Dansin

Home for my words

When I do count the clock that tells the time
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night,
When I behold the violet past prime
And sable curls all silvered o’er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
 And nothing ’gainst Time’s scythe can make defense
 Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

— Shakespeare's Sonnet 12

Fall comes and reminds us that we all must face decay, and that there is beauty in it. Since decay in the circle of life means renewal. And yet, in spite of Nature's constant reminders we continue, seemingly, to dally with the easy pleasures of notifications and new pieces of plastic, glass, and metal delivered weekly to our porches. What would archaeologists think of all these rectangular mirrors we gaze at constantly? Does it matter?

Well, as a writer, fall is a great season for melancholy inspiration and ruminations on the meaning or unmeaning of life. September bewildered me, since it was back to school month, and I didn't transition to old-new habits and duties as well as I would have hoped. I felt constantly tired, and I still am as I write this. Here is to letting those bad habits die and rot, so I can grow new ones. I offer my cider mug to you as a virtual toast.

## Writing

I kept in contact with the story, but I think I've been using my world-building deficiencies as an excuse not to push through to the end. Steinbeck said a writer should just push through, and I think he is right, I can always change it later. And while there are times where world-building really is necessary, for me it has always been secondary to my story, and I think I have done enough for now. So here's to pushing through.

## Music

I sang in front of a lot of people for the first time in a while. And while it was an incredibly small step, it was a step, and even though I've done it before with arguably more pressure, I was still very nervous. It is amazing how good I am at overthinking, and how much my pride makes a big deal out of my performances. Anyway, I really do need to work on the album. I want to get all the Lit Song demos recorded/re-recorded. And hopefully jam with some friends too.

## Reading

I finished Devils by Dostoevsky and man, I knew the ending was coming, but it still murdered me. He is probably the boldest writer I have ever read, nothing like us modern cowards. His characters are so grotesque and his plots are so non-existent, but one doesn't question the design quality of the whirlpool as it sucks one in. This is a book that could change your life if you let it, just ask Camus.

Oh yes, I also finished Middlemarch earlier in the month and I wasn't happy with the ending, but I was fine with that. So real were Eliot's characters that I wasn't really mad at George Eliot, I was just mad at Dorothea the same way I would be mad at a friend or family member for marrying someone I don't like. It is the sort of thing that happens all the time, but we are too polite so we don't say anything about it and just think: “They deserve better.” But it is a fact of life, and if anything, Middlemarch made me more thankful for my wife. In spite of the fact that in our modern society we have more freedom to choose our spouse, there is no changing that people change over the years, and sometimes they don't change; we just get to know them better until we can see everything the world doesn't. And Good God how I lucked out.

Listening

Saw a 21 Pilots concert. They are really the only band that puts on a show that I think is worth the admission price and the cost. I don't think there have been music shows with as much depth and concept and storytelling and production since The Wall. I am not really a concert goer, though, so there's probably some other bands I haven't heard of. But it was well worth it and very special. I do not think there is another artist who can give the mic to the crowd for the 40 second rap breaks and have the entire stadium rap every single word on the beat. Just magic and once in a lifetime to be in a stadium full of people who have been living in these words and these songs for years. East is up, friends.

#update


Thank you for reading! I greatly regret that I will most likely never be able to meet you in person and shake your hand, but perhaps we can virtually shake hands via my newsletter, social media, or a cup of coffee sent over the wire. They are poor substitutes, but they can be a real grace in this intractable world.


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The summer has come and gone. It is amazing how long and how short two months can feel. I am glad that my wife and I decided not to travel during the summer, because it felt like a real summer. The transition back to school has been lower stress, but it is still a big schedule change, and I haven't handled the hours alone (with baby) as well as I would like. Still, it is nice to have more or less predictable work times (baby naps). Though they are not always work time, since there are chores, and sometimes I am just tired (or mischievous). Have been ruminating on a quote from Steinbeck in the East of Eden Journals, in which he says that “one must distort one's way of life in order in some sense to simulate the normal in other's lives,” because sitting down to write is a distortion of life, but one I can't seem to live without for very long. If I were normal I wouldn't view baby naps as “writing time,” but then, how many of us are really normal?

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The more I write, the more I am convinced that the most important trait required is grit. Natural talent and curiosity give you a place to start, but even the most gifted person won't finish their book without grit. There are so many pitfalls and barriers — “I don't have any idea what should happen next,” “I don't like anything I've been able to draft,” “I don't feel inspired.” — and the only thing that gets you past them is to just keep pushing on, no matter how feeble or uninspired your efforts feel. Keep doing it every day, and when you break your daily streak, just pick it up again instead of punishing yourself.

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Our country has two anthems. One the official, bloodstained tribute. One the dream we have yet to earn.

For the Star Spangled Banner still tramples on the hireling and the slave in this beautiful land where grace and blood are shed in equal measure.

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“But I still believe that the unexamined life is not worth living: and I know that self-delusion in the service of no matter what small or lofty cause, is a price no writer can afford. His subject is himself and the world and it requires every ounce of stamina he can summon to attempt to look on himself and the world as they are.”

— James Baldwin, Introduction to Nobody Knows My Name

June has gone and summer is officially in progress. For the husband of a teacher the summer is more than an atmosphere shift around his daily routine. It is an expansion of the world. Projects become possible and time seems to be more forgiving. For a writer this should mean faster and better progress on his sequel... Shouldn't it?

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I'm still alive. Work has been ongoing on the novel, album, podcast, audiobook. It is now the last week of school (you keep close track when your wife is a teacher). I have too many projects. Staying home this summer, but planning on doing work on the house/property. Don't know when I'll find time for my selfish writing/music projects. Mind is uncooperative and greedy and worried about money and a thousand other things. Seems we have to try so hard just to enjoy the treasures God has given in this life. “I can't go on. I'll go on.”

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April was tough. I have nothing to complain about, and yet my mind has been restless, writing has been like banging my head against a brick wall, and my confidence in my guitar playing has plummeted. I was more or less productive, but I haven't felt fulfilled and it has been hard to be still and content. I have such great personal ambition, and yet my time and skill is so limited that I get stuck in this cycle of pride and self-criticism that makes it difficult to find joy in creativity. This month I will try to remember that I am not doing any of this to achieve something great. I am doing it because I love it. The process is its own reward.

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This is the eternal renewal. – Virginia Woolf

This phrase from the end of The Waves has been hanging in my mind lately. How everyday we are renewed when we sleep and wake, how relationships fade and then renew as we separate and come back together, how creative energy waxes and wanes, how we celebrate Easter to remember that the tomb is empty.

“Yes, this is the eternal renewal.” And yet even on the mountain of renewal, we remember that we will go down again, that joy is sometimes a plodding thing that we do not know we have until we have been carrying it for some time. Writing, like life, is no paved way. It requires endurance and eternally renewed hope.

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Living with Contentment

“I have lived with less than I need, and I have lived with more than I need. I have learned the secret of walking the road of life. Whether I am well-fed or hungry, whether I have more than I need or not enough.”

— Small Man to the Sacred Family in Village of Horses (Philippians 4:12 First Nations Version)

I have seen and heard the famous sequel to this verse used as a motivational statement so often that the context quoted above surprises me. Paul does not say “I can do all things through Christ” after listing his staggering achievements and hardships. Instead, “all things” in this context refers to literal things: his material needs. What can we learn from this during lent?

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February actually felt like winter, both physically and spiritually. I felt like I was hunkering down and just surviving. Nothing extreme happened, but I just barely maintained a writing habit. This month is looking pretty busy as well, but I'm going to try and keep chipping away.

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