Welcome to The Rose Fire

Why I am beginning these dispatches, and why I hope you will read them.

Illustration by Charles Folkard (1947) for MacDonald’s The Princess and Curdie.

My dear friends,

In a world of commercialized noise, I have spent about the past decade trying to discern how not to add to it. This has been complicated, as I work with words for my living. I have wanted no part in the anxious, petty, and acquisitive culture of “content creation,” which feels so cheap and small. As a result, I have hesitated, even while publishing books, essays, and occasional criticism, to regularly put myself “out there.”

That hesitation about adding to the noise seems a bit quaint now, like a child who worries that pouring out their cup of water will make the river flood. The noise is here. It is everywhere. It is growing. My silence will not much serve to reduce it. But it will reduce my ability to intentionally encourage others to remain true to what is best in them and the world. I have decided, after about a decade of thinking about it, that it is possible for me to regularly write to you, on my own terms, from an internal state of quietude. I am going to try to do so. Here is The Rose Fire.

Our time is one that may be unique in human history. If it is, then we few generations which bridge analog and digital societies have a unique and one-time role to play in preserving what is human and wonderful in the face of an absolutely basic upheaval in understanding of what it means to live, and a variety of assaults against the conditions that allow for life to flourish. It is my belief that the location of this struggle is what Christians term the soul, which I understand as the holy union of the body and spirit. Every wound of our time is a wound of the soul, every crime committed is committed against the soul, and every hope and desire and wonder likewise find their rightful home in the flourishing of that holy and fragile union.

The soul—again, the full life of the whole human person—is in danger as never before. And so it is our duty to defend it as never before. This is not done by rifle, lock, or wall, but by means of what enlivens and enlightens us. The “weakness” of truth, beauty, and goodness are, in reality, the only means by which the soul—and the life of the world—may be preserved. We defend our souls as we quietly and slowly grow in wisdom, imagination, honesty, self-forgetfulness, the ability to simply play, the ability to simply pray, and all the other good, fragile human ways of living which are currently being systematically trampled and monetized by the smooth-shaven, disembodied, photogenic corporate-infernal-techno-nihilism behind which all the old demons have decided to cloak themselves.

Surely it is time to call such things what they are, and to be done with them. Surely it is time to quietly fight for our lives, and those of our neighbors, with the innocence of children. The world is not well, for we are not well. But we can be. When the flood rises, one learns to swim and to climb. One builds rafts. One reminds the neighbors that the mountains are still dry. Most of all, one does not just sit there.

My wife Emily and I have intentionally chosen a life in pursuit of this classic trio of truth, beauty, and goodness. For us, this takes the form of living closely with wild nature here in our Oregon home, of trying to honor the sacred realities of family and community life, and of pursuing “slow” forms of traditional art that cultivate the unique human ability to see. We have found over the course of time that this simple path seems to be working. While our lives are far from perfect—and contain much frustration, pain, grief, and confusion—I will testify that not once have we regretted our path. We are learning to love what is lovely, every year a little more.

So from this understanding, here is The Rose Fire. I will be writing, along with select invited guests, a series of ongoing dispatches. They will broadly range in topic, but will be single in intention: to mount a joyous defense of the human soul. This defense will be grounded in the wisdom of wild things (particularly the non-human lives which surround us); and in beauty, which I believe to be an objective reality of profound depth.

This defense will be mounted against those things which seek to degrade, dilute, or dis-integrate the soul, and particularly those things which do this for the profit of the rich. We will read poems. We will observe flowers. We will review books. We will rejoice in the imaginations of children. We will speak with good people, whose clarity of life will improve our own. We will ponder the meanings of herbs and the movements of birds. We will even, occasionally, pray, for all this, all everything, is held in the wild, suffering eye of Christ.

If your life is harried by the constant encroachments of the artifical or the superficial, this will be for you. If you love good old books and hope to find good new ones, this is for you. If you enjoy a well-turned phrase or a rich thought, this is for you. If you are tired, or weathered, or hopeless, or listless, or feel that there are psycho-spiritual leeches that latch to your neck every time you go online, this is for you. If you are in despair, and long for the solace of genuine hope, this is especially for you.

I have chosen The Rose Fire as the title of these dispatches. This is a potent image that has haunted my imagination since I was a boy. It comes from George MacDonald’s book The Princess and Curdie, and communicates the purifying power of Beauty, which burns and pains what is unworthy in us before bestowing its abundant gift. (I will write more on this here soon, but you can watch the below video to hear some thoughts of mine on this, which I delivered last year at the University of Notre Dame. Start at minute 52:20.)

I wish The Rose Fire to be personal, joyful, thoughtful, and, fresh. Subscribers can expect weekly writing from me, and guest writing from some very special people (my contact list is an embarrassment of riches). Paid subscribers can expect special posts, some more personal connections, and other extras that I hope will be worth it—besides what I am sure will be the priceless satisfaction of knowing that they are helping these dispatches exist in a tangible way. (If anything in this speaks to you, please consider if you are able to support this regularly.)

Your attention is limited and valuable. If this speaks to you, please subscribe and share (below!), in support of this project. I hope to make this a community of conversation and friendship, rather than merely a written microphone—and will always welcome hearing from you.

On that last note: you can submit a question of any kind (within the general bounds of good taste and reason) to me, which I will, on occasion, answer and publish here. Just message me:

Schedule? I will strive to share something substantive once a week (usually on Fridays), with shorter bits interspersed, along with special paid posts. I will strive to never be tedious, to always be honest, and to put before you things worthy of your attention.

Please join me here, at The Rose Fire.

Yours,

Paul

P.S. If you become a paying subscriber before June 30, I will give you 25% off FOREVER, in my unending gratitude for helping get this thing going. Forever! That’s a long, long time…