Thanks so much much for this wonderful poem, so much to get the teeth into! I was raised by a firm atheist father whose main (and frequently rehearsed) objection to God was 'nature red in tooth and claw', and I have felt this objection too in Dillard's writings, a theme she doesn't shy away from. It's this theme that bothers and troubles me, rather than the symbolism intended by the prophet. (I think Chesterton somewhere said it would be impertinent of the lamb to thus lie with the lion (or wolf)). And your final question is the thing, the question I have asked myself, and sought answers from theologians to no avail. (Hicks is a great find too). Maybe there could be worlds sustained like that, but they wouldn't be this one, with hummingbirds and hawks. I will treasure this poem, for crystallising a lifelong preoccupation of mine, in language that crackles with life.
Michael, the theme continues to trouble me, although there is some degree of trust that allows me to sleep, or put it aside for a while. We're having a dust storm here in Amarillo today, which is to say Nature red in dirt and grit. There are so many ways Nature bares its teeth. I, we, must survive, but there comes the limit to our survival, and we give ourselves--willingly or not--to the teeth. I'm not sure that is comforting, or that comfort is really even the goal. I guess in that world where all tears are wiped away, scars still exist. Here's a wandering post I made several years ago when we were having another dust storm.
It's utterly inconsistent of me I know (and probably callous) but I am less intellectually troubled by a tsunami that kills thousands than a creature that can't live without killing, because it's built-in - that beak is hooked by millions of years of evolution for that purpose. Tragedy I can accommodate but horror less so, if that distinction makes any sense at all. But I really do appreciate your un-comforting words, I know you must be right; your poem says it better than any theologian. I suppose it's one of those father and son things, his anger at the God he didn't believe in has translated into my faith, and shaped it. Made it hooked, maybe. Hope the dust settles soon.
Edward Hicks was a fascinating person. His story makes me imagine what it must have been like to arrive in the New World near the city of Brotherly Love with so much hope about a peaceable kingdom. I wonder how to reconcile his naive hope from that time with what bears out in front of us now. I cling to a tree, I guess.
Thanks so much much for this wonderful poem, so much to get the teeth into! I was raised by a firm atheist father whose main (and frequently rehearsed) objection to God was 'nature red in tooth and claw', and I have felt this objection too in Dillard's writings, a theme she doesn't shy away from. It's this theme that bothers and troubles me, rather than the symbolism intended by the prophet. (I think Chesterton somewhere said it would be impertinent of the lamb to thus lie with the lion (or wolf)). And your final question is the thing, the question I have asked myself, and sought answers from theologians to no avail. (Hicks is a great find too). Maybe there could be worlds sustained like that, but they wouldn't be this one, with hummingbirds and hawks. I will treasure this poem, for crystallising a lifelong preoccupation of mine, in language that crackles with life.
Michael, the theme continues to trouble me, although there is some degree of trust that allows me to sleep, or put it aside for a while. We're having a dust storm here in Amarillo today, which is to say Nature red in dirt and grit. There are so many ways Nature bares its teeth. I, we, must survive, but there comes the limit to our survival, and we give ourselves--willingly or not--to the teeth. I'm not sure that is comforting, or that comfort is really even the goal. I guess in that world where all tears are wiped away, scars still exist. Here's a wandering post I made several years ago when we were having another dust storm.
https://www.sethwieck.com/commonplace/no-end-to-the-making-of-books/
It's utterly inconsistent of me I know (and probably callous) but I am less intellectually troubled by a tsunami that kills thousands than a creature that can't live without killing, because it's built-in - that beak is hooked by millions of years of evolution for that purpose. Tragedy I can accommodate but horror less so, if that distinction makes any sense at all. But I really do appreciate your un-comforting words, I know you must be right; your poem says it better than any theologian. I suppose it's one of those father and son things, his anger at the God he didn't believe in has translated into my faith, and shaped it. Made it hooked, maybe. Hope the dust settles soon.
I LOVE this comment. So insightful.
As I listened to you speak this on the podcast, I wished I could see the words in front of me.
Thank you for providing this meaty poem filled with metaphor, truth, and layers. Loved knowing the backstory of the paintings, too.
Edward Hicks was a fascinating person. His story makes me imagine what it must have been like to arrive in the New World near the city of Brotherly Love with so much hope about a peaceable kingdom. I wonder how to reconcile his naive hope from that time with what bears out in front of us now. I cling to a tree, I guess.
I will always choose to cling to a tree 😁
Yes! I felt the same way! And for me, the more I listen to it, the more it reveals to me and encourages me.