“Our haste from hence is of so quick condition That it prefers itself and leaves unquestioned Matters of needful value.”

— Shakespeare, Measure for Measure 1.1

This is my last summer as a “stay at home Dad.” I ought to reflect on the time I have spent caring for my children (which is really just the beginning of my parenting journey). And so I have; I see that 'reflecting on the value of' is a meaningless phrase that dodges the real question—because we will never know the true value of our life decisions—not unless we are granted Divine Insight. There are a thousand hidden variables that we will never see, and many thousands of ripples more that escape the meaning of 'variables.' How can I calculate the worth of seeing my baby boy smile just for me? Or snuggling with my girl when I read her books every day? This is the problem with a culture so focused on screen appearances and data driven decisions. We can do this with anything, even reading; one can post quotes on social media, but one of the great joys of reading is not finding quotes, it is experiencing the culmination of a thought or a plot in context. It is the sort of joy that cannot be posted online because no one wants to copy & paste three chapters and an explainer (and even if you did post it, it would suck the exclusiveness out of it). Sociology and science are useful tools that can help us understand ourselves and the world, but they were never meant to replace our hearts. Do I really need a study that tells me about the positive outcomes for children who have active and involved fathers? And even if I did, and I found that study, I would still be plagued by a nagging doubt that I was not that father in that study. Science is maddeningly specific, so we must be extremely careful when we apply it to our lives. Real scientists know this, which is why they speak in experimental terms. Most of us are not real scientists, so we misuse it and doubt all our assumptions unless we have a verified dataset with a regression.

To be no more; sad cure; for who would lose Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity?

Milton, Paradise Lost, II.145-50

We are finally at the end of the school year and I feel more like a defeated runner dragging themselves across the finish line than a triumphant victor. My emotional stamina, whether depleted by vice or by virtue, has been in question for some time now. But as we look towards the summer I am hopeful. There are good things in the future, and I am glad that I serve a good God, who wants to bring Love and Justice and Goodness to the world, in spite of our failings. And I am very glad that He does not value us based on money or status or achievement. I have been brought face to face with my pessimism and pride, and it is painful; like losing a layer of skin. I am going to try to change. And remember that art is fun.

“So little do we see before us in the World, and so much reason have we to depend cheerfully upon the great Maker of the World, that he does not leave his Creatures so absolutely destitute, but that in the worst Circumstances they have always something to be thankful for, and sometimes are nearer their Deliverance than they imagine; nay, are even brought to their Deliverance by the Means by which they seem to be brought to their Destruction.”

— From Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (p259).

When I think about my recent creative output I get the same sick feeling in my stomach I used to get when I showed up to class without doing my homework. The months have gone so quickly, and my emotions have been so up and down, that I haven't been able to maintain any consistent output. My mind wants to turn to the worst habits, and I feel very distracted. We are not going through a crisis or anything like that, but we're just tired. I am ready for the school year to be over. At the very least, I can say that I did some things this past month, and I do consistently* play guitar and read and study my languages. I think discipline consists much more in the little decisions that we must make over and over every single day, than in the resolutions we make a few times a year.

“Thank you” would die on your lips
If you knew,
What pride and ambition and hate
I have had to fight in myself,
To earn it.[^1]

March has ended and I am not quite sure where it went. Did I write? Yes I did. Did I make music? Yes I did. Did I do either of those things as well or as much as I had planned? No. If there are 'creatives' out there whose output is steady and controlled, I am certainly not one of them. I have worked hard to develop 'bare minimum habits' that help me maintain some consistency, but on top of those habits my output has always been stormy. Sometimes it overflows, sometimes it dries up, and I have to dig a deep well with my fingernails to find anything. Lately the music well has been much more productive than the writing well (at least in terms of fiction). I do not think this is unnatural in the sense that humans are not machines, but it would be nice to have an even keel. Ultimately though, I can rest because I believe that my life is Not My Own, and there is freedom in that. I just have to remember it, and endure it.

“If only someone had gone before and lived or suffered or died — made [the world] so that it could be understood! It was too stark, not redeemed, not made real with the reality that was the warm blood of life. He felt that there was something missing, some road which, if he had once found it, would have led him to a sure and quiet knowledge.”

— Richard Wright in Native Son.

“Many a man thinks he is making something when he's only changing things around. But God let Moses make.”

— Zora Neale Hurston in Mules and Men.

Well I am ten days late and I don't have much of an excuse. I am somewhat behind in my novel writing, which has been sporadic, so I tend to put all my other writing off until I put time in on the novel. In this case I am just choosing to get this update done instead of doing something else. For me, that is really the only way anything gets done. I do not have a normal work day. I have a full time home gig that doesn't really allow days off, or any breaks at all. To say more would be to wallow in a bit too much bitterness, I think. Really I am thankful to be able to do this. The typing of this is something like talk therapy. You should only be worried if you stop hearing from me.

“For evil is in the world: it may be in the world to stay. No creed and no dogma are proof against it, and indeed no person is; it is always the naked person, alone, who, over and over and over again, must wrest his salvation from these black jaws. Perhaps young Martin was finding a new and more somber meaning in the command: “Overcome evil with good.” The command does not suggest that to overcome evil is to eradicate it.”

– James Baldwin. Essay on Martin Luther King Jr. February 1961.[^1]

I think perhaps the privileged of us, whether racially or financially or geographically, are now staring this truth in the face. Evil is in the world, and we are foundering in it. There are traditions in which we might find the resources to overcome it, but for many the truly American tradition of severing oneself from tradition, has severed us from hope. We might look back and see that things are not so bad as they once were, and that we can fight to make them better. We do not have to look far. Black history month is a good start. I suppose the above quote from my man James Baldwin might seem harsh or pessimistic, but I see a pragmatic hope. For what else can we do with evil, but overcome it with good? It will take (as Baldwin was fond of saying) every ounce of our stamina, but it can be overcome. And I dare say it will be. Go read some Baldwin, some Martin Luther King Jr. Some Hurston. Listen to some Sam Cooke and Don Shirley. Try some new things and suggest things to your friends and make art to help the world feel more human. Call your congressman and senators. Protest. Donate to the people on the frontlines. Go read the words of the Apostle who wrote the words that Baldwin quotes.

“We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, For Auld Lang Syne.”

“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”

— Ebenezer Scrooge

Another year has gone, and as I look back I wish I had a Ghost to show me the significant moments. As I learned from Neal Postman in Technopoly, every technology carries an agenda, and our phones, in offering the ability to document every moment, seem to assert that memory is irrelevant; that the human mind is too fallible to be trusted with something as important as what has happened and is happening and will happen. Well, I reject that with every force of my being. For who can tell the self what is happening to it, other than itself? Even (or especially) those of us who believe in an Authority who can supersede the self, must yet work to distinguish between those words the self wishes to hear from the Word and the words the self needs to hear from the Word. Technology ought to be a tool, and nothing more. Those spectres of Ignorance and Want, which have haunted mankind since before Dickens named them in A Christmas Carol, have not been driven away by the information age. So take a cup of kindness (and I mean actual kindness) this year, for old time's sake, and pass it on. God knows we need it.

“A writer who is worried about his career is also fighting for his life.”[^1]

— James Baldwin in “The Black Boy Looks at the White Boy”

Well this is the last update of the year. That went fast. Time moves faster and faster as one ages. That is not a very original observation, is it? When I think about where I was last year I suppose I am most definitely in a better place, mainly because I don't have pneumonia, but I guess I have grown a bit as a writer, and a husband and a father and a friend. I feel that I have been tried much more in my personal life than in my artistic life. When I say personal life I do not mean there has been anything especially dramatic, I mean I have been tried in those secret places of my pride, that only those with good marriages or deep relationships discover in themselves. I have been tried, and found wanting, and broken down, and improved. That is, I suppose, evidence that I am walking with Jesus. I have a lot to be thankful for.

“Much mighty speech-making there has been, both in and out of Parliament, concerning Tom [^1], and much wrathful disputation how Tom shall be got right. Whether he shall be put into the main road by constables, or by beadles, or by bell-ringing, or by force of figures, or by correct principles of taste, or by high church, or by low church, or by no church: whether he shall be set to splitting trusses of polemical straws with the crooked knife of his mind, or whether he shall be put to stonebreaking instead. In the midst of which dust and noise, there is but one thing perfectly clear, to wit, that Tom only may and can, or shall and will, be reclaimed according to somebody's theory but nobody's practice. And in the hopeful meantime, Tom goes to perdition head foremost in his old determined spirit.”

— From Bleak House, Chapter 46, by Charles Dickens, emphasis mine

Well, don't try that^ at home kids. In other news. I have been in something of a slump in my writing. I did finish the second draft of book two over the summer, but it has been hard to conjure the passion. I think part of it is due to querying. Facing so much rejection, and viewing my book as a product, makes it hard to write something fresh because when I look it over my first thought is how weird and unmarketable it is. Writing itself takes an entirely different skill-set; the joy of a creative sentence is a humble joy compared to the shiny potential of publishing; I am continually astonished how different the world of letters is from the world that sells them. Without publishing, however, one can't live on sentences alone, but my heart certainly lives for them. “I can't go on. I'll go on.” [^2]

“Mark it, nuncle: Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest, Ride more than thou goest, Learn more than thou trowest*, Set less than thou throwest;”

*trowest = believe

— The Fool in King Lear Act 1. Sc. 4

Such simple advice from a fool, and yet so difficult to follow in a world which constantly tries to get us to play the fool with our wallets and our tongues. This update is coming so late because I neglected it in the first week of August, and everything got away from us. Now the end of the summer is closing fast and we can't seem to get a spare moment. Even though we purposely tried not to schedule anything it seems we've had some travel or events happening every day. Have never been more tired in my life.