Binge-eating during Civil War; MAiD across state lines; and if Annie Dillard wrote thrillers
Binge-eating during Civil War; MAiD across state lines; and if Annie Dillard wrote thrillers
3 Things this week and my poem "the river"
Happy Sunday. And thanks for spending part of your weekend with Things I Wrote Down.
I enjoyed taking some time this week in my Thursday article to reflect on identity, looking through Heaven’s lens at us. If you need a pop of encouragement check it out.
Here’s my link round up for the week and my poem “the river”.
1. Binge-eating during Civil War
After the movie, Petra remarked that we both were binge-eating the popcorn as we watched. It was a coping mechanism during the film, which we both really enjoyed.
Yes, we saw a movie together at the theatre! Something we pull off about once a year now that we have young kids.
We got the babysitter, splurged on Cineplex’s VIP option (with the full recliners and food service—we recommend the crispy chicken sandwich with truffle fries) and watched.
The world of the film was completely believable. The acting was understated with great performances, especially by the quartet of leads: Kirsten Dunst, Wagner Moura, Cailee Spaeny, and Stephen McKinley Henderson.
Neither of us have restless leg syndrome, that was us just jumping in surprise in our seats.
2. MAiD across state lines
There were a number of terrible stories that broke in the Canadian news this week about MAiD.
Like the one about the Quebec man whose hospital couldn’t source the proper mattress. As a result, he developed painful, terrible bedsores. And after four days of suffering in this way, he asked for the hospital staff to end his life. And they complied.
This National Post article got some attention on X: it asked why 15 times more Canadians die by MAiD than Californians.
For context, the populations of Canada and California are similar. Both legalized doctor assisted suicide in 2016. But the way the procedure is administered is different. In California patients must self-administer, ingesting the drug that kills them on their own. Canadians can self-ingest or have a doctor inject them with the life-ending drug.
This chart from the American Journal of Bioethics reveals how MAiD plays out, by the numbers in each territory:
All that to say, it's prompted me to pen another Op-ed. (You can read the previous articles I wrote for The Christian Post, similarly triggered by the issue):
3. If Annie Dillard wrote heart-racing thrillers
I finished a second Peter Heller book those week. I picked his The Guide off the shelf at my local library. If you're not familiar with his work, it's like reading Annie Dillard (dazzling descriptions of nature) with some incredible thrills (action sequences and villains).
Do you ever do that? Pick up a book by an author you’ve never read and just give it a try? I do here and there, and was so glad I did.
What I didn’t know was that it would be so descriptive, poetic. Or that it was really the second in a sequence of books that gave away a major plot point for the first. So after reading The Guide, I picked up its precursor The River which is set in Muskoka, not too far from where I live.
The books are beautiful and action-packed.
A poem about a river
The title of Heller’s book reminded of my poem “the river,” which I wrote while I was teaching English in Mongolia between semesters during my undergrad (in English Lit).
The stark landscape on the edge of the Gobi Desert was uniquely beautiful.
I penned this from a Soviet-built apartment building that stood in a neighbourhood of yurts, right by the edge of a murky river. It sometimes felt like I was transported back in time, perhaps by centuries. There’s a light allusion to Psalm 91. Can you find it?
the river
waves break at the ocean shore
where the river enters the sea
crest
trough, again
in the shell of a human heart
a spirit can soar
to unknown heights
who will measure them
so far, in this destruction,
from the sea
gravel
gravel and dust
the waste of noonday
i forget its colour
broken glass
riddles the ground
what is its answer
place your ear against it
listen
you can hear the ocean roar
why only moments
when we remember the river?
take me to the sea again
my heart longs for the sea
take me
if only for one day
but, you have never been
step
walk the unpaved road
steps
what do we really hear?
dryness
my tears fall to the dry ground
dryness
my tears carve their way to the sea
what happens there?
shadows fill the valley
i stand at noonday
such life comes with the tears
what green
what trees and birds
water
deep enough to swim in
a flood of water
gone so soon
the sound and the colour with it
swallowed by the dry earth
where to?
return
but with it must tears come?
yes, with it tears must come
positioned
in the thought of it
located
by the thought of it
though located
lost
in a stationary body
on an unpaved road
in the dryness
of idle steps
i stand in the valley
at noonday
learn the lesson of the shell
place it to your ear
hear
tears
they carve the way to the sea
follow them
on paths to the sea
the river brought me here
it carried me
and nursed me like a mother's breast
it spoke of the ocean
the river promised i'd see it, again
but all i know is dryness
all i see is the unpaved road
it brought me here
where is the river?
return river
mother, teacher, friend
a tree stood by the river
a great oak
tall
to the heights where eagles soar
it extended its branches
touched me with their healing
it nursed me to health
but all i see is dryness
where is the river
in this valley of decision?
remember the river
it brought me here
river, return
a voice spoke to me on the river
the sound of rushing waters
it told me of the ocean
it spoke of the tree
but i walk on an unpaved road
i walk
i stand still
stationary
waves break at the ocean's shore