Jim Hartsell's Blog: On the brink of the unknown - as always

I’m pleased to announce the release of my newest children’s book, The Noise in the Woods, in both English and Spanish versions. This is my fourth children’s book, and its theme is imagination. My previous three books explore other ideas; Father and Sister Radish and the Rose-Colored Glasses is about friendship, The Box of Toys is about generosity, and The Boy and His Mountain is about how children see the world differently than we adults do. All four are available in both languages, and all four are illustrated by A. B. Walker, who always brings a new and unexpected perspective to my work, for which I am grateful. Collaboration is an exercise filled with possibility and surprise, and we could all use a little more of that, I think.Jim Hartsell

Not coincidentally, until a month ago I had four grandchildren (hence the four books); Kavya’s arrival calls for a fifth book in the near future. Because of distance and the pandemic, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her and haven’t begun thinking in any specific way about the upcoming book. That will come later, I’m sure. For those of you fortunate enough to have grandchildren, I can recommend them as a source of inspiration. If you don’t, hang around with the very young now and then; it’s good for the soul.

Links for purchasing these and also my books written for adult readers can be found on my website, housemountainviews.com. You can find links to my podcast, and I have a blog there that meanders from subject to subject in no discernible pattern.

Thanks for stopping by.

I got an email from the folks that host my podcast congratulating me on my 1,000th download. Many thanks to all of you who helped me along the way to that benchmark. They provided a milestone badge, which you can see if you scroll to the bottom of my website's home page at

https://housemountainviews.com

Also, you can link to my podcast from there if you haven't tried it out yet. It includes my readings of two of my books.

This is the essay I wrote for Karen Krogh's excellent photographic portrayal of the year following the shooting at TVUUC in 2008. Her photos, along with this and two other essays, all very different but each powerful and compelling in their own right, comprise the book "Love is the Spirit." I thought it would be appropriate to revisit this, since the anniversary is only a couple of days away.




I suppose it’s fitting, given the format of this book, that one of the ways I think about the shooting is how it has altered the lens through which I view the world. 

Everyone has markers in their lives; some are planned, anticipated, celebrated, preserved in photographs and videos: births, weddings, graduations, retirements, and so on. Some are unanticipated and may be more indelibly etched into memory as a result.

For me, July 27, 2008 falls into the second category. Because of those few minutes I have a clearer understanding of the word chaos and a different sense of the word sanctuary than I did on July 26th. The memories seldom arise unbidden and overwhelming any more, but they’re still there. The woman sitting right in front of me, her white blouse spotted with red after the second blast. The gunman and someone, I’m not sure who, wrestling for control of the shotgun. Brian at the center of a circle of people out on the lawn. A man with his arm in a sling being hustled along the sidewalk to a police car, officers on both sides of him. The crowded fellowship hall, the detective’s voice nothing but a burst of static, Jenny’s eyes meeting mine for just a moment as she walked by. There are more, but you get the point.

There are also other memories, from the days and weeks immediately following. The church so full the next Sunday that I couldn’t get into the sanctuary, or even into the fellowship hall. The outpouring of love, both from those who knew us and those who had never heard of TVUUC until that Sunday morning. The creation of a web of support and healing that came, it seemed, from everywhere and lifted us up and held us together, erasing those artificial lines that separate one faith tradition from another. The group I joined that allowed those of us gathered in the room to experience a glimpse into the depth and richness of one another’s experience. The fact that what drew us together was an attack on the church and all it stood for did nothing to lessen the beauty of that sharing, though that beauty is clearer in retrospect.

I see the world now through the lens of someone who has, as they say, been there. Those in power and on the media make statements about this issue and I find myself shaking my head, thinking, you really have no idea, do you? The Sandy Hook parents or the Parkland students speak, and I’m nodding. These days, fewer things are worth commenting on and more things bring tears to my eyes. I put in my hearing aids every morning and they remind me of how many ways that day damaged me, and how the easiest damage to repair is taken care of by a couple of little computers resting behind my ears.

My professional life was spent largely in adolescent treatment centers, working in what most would consider difficult environments. I believe the most important thing I did in those tense and sometimes dangerous situations that frequently arose was to say as clearly as I could, in whatever way fit the moment best, “This is where I stand. This is what is important. Tomorrow I will be standing right here, in the same place. You can count on that, and on me.”

Which is how I feel about TVUUC, why I formally joined this community not long after that horrible day, and why I keep coming back through these same doors. It’s the “Love is the Spirit of This Church" banner that went up immediately after the shooting, the recitation accompanying the chalice lighting every Sunday that expands on that theme, the Share the Plate program, and the FISH food distribution program. It’s Small Group Ministry, Family Promise, the RE program, the practice of connecting with other faith groups in the local community and beyond, and all the other things that go on in this church (certainly more than I’m aware of or could easily list). It’s the knowledge that what this church does is say very clearly, in so many different and meaningful ways, “This is where we stand. This is what is important. Tomorrow we will be standing right here, in the same place. You can count on that, and on us.”

This is where we stand.

In the classic work "Walden," Thoreau said, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately . . . .” As our day-to-day lives have settled into the new rhythms dictated by COVID-19, it strikes me that we are being forced into some version of deliberate living.

The adjustments required by the presence of a virus for which we have no vaccine and no coherent plan for have resulted, at least in the lives of my wife and myself, in an examination of activities and choices that before we didn’t think about in any kind of serious way. I would start a project at the house or in the yard with no definite plan in mind and proceed a bit at a time, letting the results of the previous choices suggest my next move. A trip to the big box home improvement store was an assumed part of the process, and it was not important if I forgot something. I would just jump in the car and make another run.

Trips to the grocery worked more or less the same way, as did decisions about going downtown to meet friends or catch a movie or a meal at an old favorite or new place that sounded interesting. We would decide and an hour later be out the door and on the road.

No more, at least not for a time period yet to be determined. Tomorrow I am leaving the house for a trip to four places and do not intend to leave the house for another several weeks (barring an emergency of some kind). We’ve been thinking about this trip for several days, trying to make sure we aren’t leaving anything out. The places I’m going have options to minimize human contact, and I’m taking advantage of all of them. This morning I watched an online church service, with half of the people conducting the service working from their homes. We visited our children via Zoom this afternoon, and, while I’m talking with my parents regularly, I haven’t seen them for weeks and I expect it will be weeks before I see them again. I hope I see them again.

We are living deliberately; not by choice, but out of necessity. The entire Thoreau quote that I started with goes like this:

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary.”

We are certainly fronting the essential facts of life right now and we’re in in a position at present where there are important things to learn. It remains to be seen how well we will learn them, and what lessons we can carry forward that will make things better, more equitable, and healthier for us and our fellows. The lessons are there, I’m confident of that. I hope we can see them clearly and act accordingly. In the meantime, we’ve got a hell of a mess to deal with.

It’s not exactly Walden Pond, is it?

Yesterday, when I came back in from a short walk with my wife, I was hanging up my hat and noticed that a bird had made a small deposit in the crown, almost dead center. I realized that there were three different ways I could look at this:

1) Why does this kind of thing always happen to me?
2) I’m glad I was wearing a hat.
3) Is this a metaphor for the times we’re going through?

As far as 1) is concerned, this rarely happens to me, so that doesn’t work. 2) makes sense, but I pretty much always wear a hat these days and so always go protected. And regarding 3), The pandemic can certainly be seen as the whole lot of us being shat upon from above, but the metaphor seems a bit forced to me. Most likely the bird didn’t even notice me walking beneath it when it let go. No life lessons or great insight here.

As we in the US approach the peak of this medical emergency, it remains to be seen what lessons we will take from the experience as we move forward. I have heard that gun sales are up, which concerns me deeply. You can’t stop a virus with a gun. It’s a very dangerous way of intensifying the “us vs. them” stance, however, and crises tend to foster that mindset.

I have also seen most people finding ways to cope with, adjust to, and work around the current restrictions we are facing, often with grace, love, and maturity, which gives me hope. Some of the activities and habits we are being forced to set aside may, as the crisis passes, be activities and habits we decide to leave in our past. In almost every case the way forward for a person, community, society, or country requires that something be left behind. It’s been said that there is no gain without loss, and I think there is some truth in that. We’ll see how it all plays out; it’s very hard to see the picture when we’re right in the middle of it.

Greetings all,

I’m announcing a price change on all the books in my catalog that are available as ebooks. This new price will stay in effect at least through the end of April and as much longer as needed. All of my ebooks are now $.99; this includes the novels "Tango" and "Rock, Paper, Scissors," the short works "Journey" and "Glimpses," and all three books in the Boone series. The links are on my website housemountainviews.com; look for the catalog page.

With prudence dictating a stay at home lifestyle for now, we all need something to occupy our time. I hope this small gesture offers another option. Please pass the word along to anyone you know who would enjoy a good read.

Stay safe and stay in touch,

Jim

Forty years ago, the scientists at NASA attached a gold disk to each of the two Voyager spacecrafts prior to their launch. On that disk was a message from Earth to whoever or whatever found it.

It contained sound recordings: a human heartbeat, greetings in 55 languages, a baby crying, a Bach concerto, Chuck Berry doing “Johnny B. Goode”, and many other sounds both natural and manmade. And pictures: people, animals, landscapes, machinery, buildings, and so on. A message that included our location in space and information about the beings that created the disk, along with instructions, in symbols, about how to access the information.

Our initial reaction to being told about or reminded of this endeavor can be informative. Reactions could range from “What a great idea!” to “What did they include?” to “What did they leave out? Who did they slight?” to “Damn waste of money.”, and many other variations on those listed. Attending to our initial response is a chance for us to learn something about ourselves, about our present state of mind.

It’s also an opportunity to think about our world in a slightly different way. If you were making this recording today, to be found at some indeterminate time in the distant future, at an unimaginable distance from here, what would you put into that message? What would you leave out? Who would you ask to help you put it together?

Or would you say it would be a waste of time?

Anniversary. Sanctuary. I thought I knew what those words meant.

I thought I knew what darkness looked like, sounded like, felt like. The shooting changed all that. I was there; I know darkness now to a depth I didn't know existed five years ago.

I know now that things I thought were important before the shooting weren't and aren't. I know now that two lives ended too soon and many others were changed in unspeakable ways. I know now there is no safe place - if a church on Sunday morning during a children's play isn't safe . . . . I know now that there are those whose exhortations fed Adkisson's anger and his hatred.

I also know now that right now is what I've got, and it is precious. I know now that knowing what darkness looks like brings light into sharper focus and intensity. I know now that evil did not prevail on that day - he carried over seventy more shells into our church that he could not use because of the courage of people close enough to him to stop him. I know now that we were offered love and peace and healing by our community and that whatever differences exist among our faiths meant nothing whatsoever on that day and the days following.

I know now that more guns is not the answer.

Something is starting to germinate and I don't know exactly what it is or how to articulate it. We tend to define some important concepts in terms of their opposite: peace is the absence of war, safety is the absence of violence, etc.

This seems insufficient to me, and that's as far as I've gone with it so far. I know there's more; I just can't find the language yet.

More later.

Not long ago my wife and I were out running errands and she offered to buy ice cream for the two of us. We stopped at a place that happened to be close and went up to to walk-in window. I looked at the menu and noticed that they offered something called a Twister.

"What's a Twister?" I asked the person behind the counter.

"You know, it's like a Blizzard," she said.

"What's a Blizzard?" I asked.

"You know, like a McFlurry."

"What's a McFlurry?"

At this point my wife stepped in and said, "He doesn't get out much." She explained to me that all three of these things were essentially soft serve ice creams with extra toppings (cookie crumbles, candy, etc.).

That I could understand.

The person behind the counter describing one brand name item in terms of another brand name item and then expanding that by saying it was like yet another brand name item was not giving me any information about what it was I was asking about.

She assumed that we shared a frame of reference. It we had, saying that a Twister was like a Blizzard would have been enough for me to understand. Since we did not share a frame of reference, her explanation was useless.

The implications for larger issues are obvious.