Creating Lent (What is the Work of Your Hands?)
Lent: The penitential season where we move (with great intention) from our gorged, swollen, addicted state to something more Divine. At least, that’s the hope. But is Lent all about fasting and prayers and saying holy things on the internet to garner attention?
Dear God, I hope not.
We are created in the image of a Creator, at least the ancient books says so. If this is true, and if Lent is a journey to connecting with the grace of our originally created state, shouldn’t Lent include some act of creation? Yes, I say.
Years ago, I wrote a novel. It was a beast of a thing (quite literally), entitled Bears in the Yard (you can read it in serial installments by joining here). It’s the story of a man who is making his pilgrimage to end, the great beyond, the far shore, whatever. It’s a recasting of his life—the joyful, the regrettable, the sexual, the sensual, the mournful. When I finished that novel, I let it sit. And sit. And sit. It sat while the earth made eight cycles around the sun, and this Lent, I’ve dusted it off. My goal? To complete the editorial process and get it to a literary agent by Easter.
40 days to polish a novel. Let’s go.
I create because I was made to create. So were you. Your mode of creation is different than mine, of course. You work wood, tie flies, knit stocking caps. You paint, sketch, stitch together haiku. Maybe you make those country checkerboards with roosters painted on the edges. Whatever your chosen mode, that act of creation is an act of becoming more Divine. It is a sort of liturgy, an act of prayer.
Today, set a creation goal as a Lenten practice. You have 40 days to make something new, something unique to you. What will it be? If you’re so inclined, let me know by shooting me an email.
Writing as the Art of Connection
Why write? Why create? Artist, authors, and actors have given hundreds of words to the topic, but last week, I laid hands on a copy of Jeff Tweedy’s new book, How to Write One Song. In it, he writes,
“At the core of any creative act is an impulse to make manifest our powerful desire to connect—with others, with ourselves, with the sacred, with God? We all want to feel less alone, and I believe that a song being sung is one of the clearest views we ever have to witness how humans reach out for warmth with our art.”
Truer words I’ve not read on the process of writing. This is why I’ve written and published two books and am working my way through a redraft of a novel. It’s why I pen a regular newsletter and why I marry prose with photography.
Every effort of writing is an effort toward creating connection, whether with a friend, yourself, or the Divine. In that way, every effort of writing is an effort toward formation—of relationship, community, or Divine communion.
I’ll share more about the act of creation as connection with the Divine tomorrow, but in the meantime, tell me: Is there some method or mode of art, some creative effort you use to connect with others, yourself, and God? Drop me an email and let me know.
DON’T GO JUST YET
If there’s one regret I have about The Book of Waking Up, it’s that I didn’t realize just how addicted we are to politics at the time of its writing. I suppose I understood it at a macro level, but this election cycle has exposed a much deeper addiction. If you haven’t picked up a copy, please do, and consider just how the framework of waking up applies to our political addictions.