The Dakotas, as I encountered them driving a U-Haul to Washington state, are a starkly open, even disturbing space that contrasts sharply to the expanses on either side of them. Much of my writing has included unique places as an essential element, sometimes approaching the role of an actual character.
Norris’ Dakota: A Spiritual Journey came to my attention after I had relocated to northern New England and was attempting to comprehend its unique landscapes and peoples. Her insights, with all of the directness of Midwest expression, proved helpful.
The friend who recommended – or perhaps even gifted – Dakota to me had lived as an Episcopal nun, and my ashram residency was a monastic experience, so Norris’ The Cloister Walk, following up on her introduction to a Benedictine community, was more like a dialogue. Yes, monks and nuns can be prankish and have a sense of humor, and as mystics, they’re often unexpectedly practical.
Norris was welcomed as an active Presbyterian to participate in the Roman Catholic convent without any pressure of conversion. Rather, her exchanges were mutually enhancing, akin to what both my friend and I repeatedly encountered in our own religious streams.
Building on that, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith has been a helpful guide in translating key Christian words and expressions – jargon, if you will – in ways a wider contemporary audience might more clearly understand. I find it helpful to have at hand when writing directly about Biblical terms and thoughts.
Poets do make some of the finest prose writers, in my humble observation.
Jnana's Red Barn 