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199 pages, Hardcover
First published February 15, 2016
Poetry happens when I’m made to really see something I’ve overlooked, something needful, something that might bring me back to myself.
I take it to be a provocatively countercultural and commonsensical call to not be in perpetual flight, to not be always elsewhere in mind and spirit, reaching after the false promise of one more immortality project. It’s a call to make instead that rare saving choice to be more alive to where you are situated, to be more radically present.
When we really admit to the fact of our own context, we’re less prone to deny others the complications of their own and empathy becomes a living possibility. In this sense, the good news about weird religious backgrounds is that we all have one, and there are as many as there are people. Numbering ourselves among those who conduct their lives according to strange ideas about the world, acting out one form of devotion after another, whether inspired or ill-conceived, means refusing to keep ourselves aloof from the rest of humanity and accepting a place among our fellow pilgrims also searching for meaning, also trying to make sense of their own lives, and also living with the always-difficult and pressing question of what to do in light of what we know. We begin to take up the task of empathy when we’re susceptible to the sense that the inner lives of others might be as real and as realistic as our own. Are we committed to donning, again and again, the mantle of the merely human, to take up a place as human beings among human beings?