Tara Couture, Radiance of the Ordinary: We douse the meat in chemicals to make it look vibrant and fresh, then wrap it in cellophane. We wash the eggs and dip them in chlorine to ride them of the gift of a feather from the soft underbelly of the mother hen. We remove all trace of connection—a leaf, hair, bones, hide, crumbs of soil. And in every little thing wiped away, so too the wiping of our awareness.
David Bentley Hart has a translation of the Tao Te Ching coming out in May. I may have to add that to my collection of translations. Interview with Hart about the book here.
One evening, several days ago, a squirrel was eating at the feeder outside the window, the golden light on its fur. I decided against photographing it because I knew squirrels don’t stay anywhere long. Now I sit here remembering it. The image isn’t as clear as a photograph but the feeling remains.
After coming across that “writers against AI” image, I decided to put it into my micro.blog newsletter’s footer. Then, inevitably, I wondered “is that presumptuous to consider myself a writer?” I quickly concluded, “Who cares? You’re being tiresome.” That’s the proper response and I am satisfied with it. Later, though, I came across this line from Caspar David Friedrich quoted in The Romantic Revolution: bring to the light of day what you have seen in the darkness, so that it can work on others, from the outside inwards
Kingsnorth: Writers against AI
I always hated it when people told me not to take myself so seriously. Hated it. I’ve always been a painfully sincere person who wants to do the right thing. I heard that advice as suggesting that I was ridiculous for taking life seriously. And, to be fair, some people did mean that. But now, as fifty approaches, maybe I begin to understand. Over the past ten years I can see more clearly the ways I pose and cope—and how others do the same.
In Radiance of the Ordinary, Tara Couture opens the chapter “The Dance” with a truly cozy (there’s that word again) description of an early winter morning on their farm. Waking up, starting a fire, reading on the couch, standing barefoot in the grass to greet the sun. She continues: It’s all lovely, yes? It’s as lovely as we’ve crafted it to be. And as much as I’d like to leave us there, cozied up by the hearth, I cannot.
I love this Robert S. Duncanson painting “Landscape with Cows Watering in a Stream.” It caught my eye as the cover image for Radiance of the Ordinary.
Since reading a great quote shared by @ReaderJohn earlier today, ordinariness has been on my mind and I thought I’d share a couple of books. Coincidentally, I received this in the mail today: Radiance of the Ordinary: Essays on Life, Death, and the Sinews that Bind. Another book I came across a few years ago but still haven’t read: The Tao of Ordinariness: Humility and Simplicity in a Narcissitic Age.
One of our senators is talking about a new national crisis: Americans being killed by illegal immigrant drivers. Dang straight! I’m surrounded by red-blooded American drivers who can do that job just fine, thank you very much.