The clocks have changed, the spring flowers are up, the grape vines in the polytunnel are starting to bud. The evenings are longer, the birds are building their nests and the first draft of my book on the Machine has been completed and dispatched. It’s all change. That’s all good.
Things have been ticking along here at the Abbey for the last few months, as I have laboured to turn my essays into a book. During that time I have been writing my tales of the wild saints, and cataloguing my weekly visits to the holy wells of Ireland, but not much more. Not only has the book been filling my days, but a project like that takes time to recover from, intellectually and perhaps spiritually too. It was a long slog. A writer can’t be pouring forth fresh water all the time. Sometimes, he needs to refill the cistern.
I appreciate the support of all those who have stuck around since my Machine series ended. Now though, I feel like I want to get back into the saddle. I feel, after my period of composting and wandering, that I have some things to say again. So I’m going to start saying them.
This time around, I won’t be writing a long, connected series of essays as I did before. But I will be writing essays, amongst other things. What will they be about? I reserve the right to answer that question as I go along. It’s safe to say though that I’ll be writing a lot about my spiritual journey, and specifically about Orthodox Christianity, which is the frame now around all of my writing. I’ll be writing about the culture: its ongoing slide, where it might go, and quite what is happening. I’ll be writing about nature. I’ll be writing about history, and perhaps art. I’ll still be writing about saints and wells. All the usual themes, in other words, but probably some new ones too. I want to interrogate myself and the world. I don’t want to get bored. I don’t want my readers to either.
Also, I want to enjoy it. I’ll be looking into the darkness sometimes - it’s hard not to right now - but I want to spend more time walking towards the light. I feel, as I have written repeatedly over the years, that we are all living through a great, unfurling, staggering ending. These are the times we have been given. Culturally, ecologically, spiritually: everything is coming down. Voids are opening up. Assumptions are proving worthless. Cracks are appearing in history. We can either cling screaming to the wreckage or we can get swimming. I want to strike out for some distant shore, and see where I land. It could be that I’ll drown - but clinging never gets you anywhere.
Briefly then, here’s what I plan to offer from now on:
I’ll be publishing a substantial piece of writing every two to three weeks. This might be an essay, it might be the tale of a wild saint, it might even be a story or some form of prose never yet seen by human eyes. I already have a long list of ideas and partially-thought-through essays, so I don’t think I’ll be short of material.
Starting very soon, I’ll be introducing The Scriptorium: the Abbey’s new book club. We’ll all read a book together over six weeks or so, and I will then write a review here. Other readers may want to publish their own reviews on their own Susbtacks at the same time. I have my own list of ideas for books to read, but I’ll also be open to suggestions from readers.
Fifty Holy Wells will of course continue every Sunday, and will remain free to all.
Lives of the Wild Saints, with illustrations by Ewan Craig, will be rolling along also for many months yet.
The Monthly Salons, which give all my paid subscribers a chance to set their own agenda, will also continue.
I expect a few other things to pop up here and there too, including the odd film, of the kind I’ve been enjoying making recently.
This Substack is my main source of income these days, and its success so far has allowed me to dedicate myself full time to writing about things that matter to me in a manner that would not be possible if I needed to get permission from editors, or had to worry about what I was ‘allowed’ to say. I’m deeply grateful to all of those readers who have helped make this happen. From here on, I’m hoping to make as many pieces of my writing freely available as I can. The more paid subscribers I have, the more of my writing I will be able to give away to those who can’t afford a sub. So if you are willing and able to take out a paid subscription, and if the new menu looks tasty, I hope you’ll consider it.
If you’re feeling especially generous, a Founder Members’ subscription will give you access to four Zoom calls with me and other Founders every year, where you will set the agenda, as well as early access to some of my events and a deep discount on my online writing course. You’ll also be supporting my work above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you sincerely to all of those who have done this so far.
Paid and Founders’ subscriptions can be accessed via the little red button:
The next phase of my work at the Abbey will begin next week. I hope to see you there.
Last night the Book of Common Prayer gave me 2 Corinthians 4 which truly captures the feeling of adventurous hope in the face of certain disaster: "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed".
Looking forward to what’s to come and taking the journey with you. I give thanks to God for your life and your writing, both of which are graces of God