Spiritual Friendship by Wesley Hill
Triumph of the City by Edward Glaeser (read the introduction and you’ll get the gist of this)
When Helping Hurts by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert
The Physiology of Taste OR Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy by J.A. Brillat-Savarin
Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
We Make the Road by Walking: Conversations on Education and Social Change by Myles Horton and Paulo Freire (ideal for anyone working in community- i.e. everyone)
Hexwood by Diana Wynne Jones
Leaf by Niggle by J.R.R. Tolkien
Fear and Trembling by Søren Kierkegaard
A Long Long Sleep by Anna Sheehan
Spinning Thorns by Anna Sheehan (very fun YA fiction)
Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones
Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer
The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (I cried)
After Virtue by Alasdair MacIntyre
Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin (confusing sometimes, but beautiful writing about NYC)
Momo by Michael Endo
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Possession by A.S. Byatt
The BFG by Roald Dahl
Volma… My Journey: One Man’s Impact on the Civil Rights Movement in Austin, TX by Carolyn Jones
Taliessin Through Logres, The Region of the Summer Stars, Arthurian Torso by Charles Williams (the poem about coins was my favorite)
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
Stoner by John Williams
The Timeless Way of Building by Christopher Alexander (this is a work of art)
The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope
1491 by Charles C. Mann
The New Strategic Selling by Stephen Heiman and Diane Sanchez
The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett (I would make my children read this… ages 8-18?)
One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
For the Time Being by W.H. Auden
The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis
Maskerade by Terry Pratchett
A Pattern Language by Christopher Alexander (the toolkit companion to The Timeless Way of Building)
Wide, deep streets. Rich color. Silver, grey, tiny shops, lines out restaurant doors. Murmuring underground trains, hustle, people flowing like water. French speakers, Spanish speakers, frustrated voices on the phone, small dogs walking small circles in small squares of grass. Central Park: no identical bridges, squatty pine trees, maples, elms, running and biking, the sound of a waterfall, the stink of horses, no identical lakes. Joel Pafford who knew everyone who worked at the Italian restaurant and told us that New Yorkers are extremely tied to small localities. Flashing lights in Times Square-not-a-square. Falafel and hot dog vendors, the smell of food, the smell of trash, the smell of sweat, smoke, coffee. Calf-length trench coats, yellow cars, black cars. Blue bikes. Hissing of buses and of steam coming up through fat orange pipes that loom in the middle of the street and are fenced off with plastic. Bagels with cream cheese. Repaired tenements, gilt condos, windows, occasionally bay windows. Steel bridges stretching like neural dendrites between Manhattan and the other islands. A secluded community garden near the wharf. Children walking unaccompanied and unafraid. A snaking line to get in the Met, gentle rain. Umbrellas, dogs wearing shoes, Lincoln Center all gold in the dark. A man organizing pumpkins in a Greenwich Village shop window, delivery men climbing in and out of basements. A hazy and distant Statue of Liberty looking tiny and kind. Lindens in far north Ft Tyron park, Robert Moses’s visible or invisible stamp on everything. Construction noise and scaffolding, car horns, maple leaves clicking together overhead and crunching underfoot, out-of-tune carousel, cellist on the Highline, boy choir at St Thomas. Suited business people, tourists with iPhone cameras out. Amy’s Bread: narrow and bustling. A New Yorker bag slung over a shoulder. Making walking into a dance: darting through crowds, shifting my shoulders, shaping my body to the narrow breaks that open before me.
A lunch box dangles from a man’s hand, waiting to cross the street at the
intersection of Dean Keeton and Robert Dedman, going to law school.
When the light turns, we start across. I count the lanes:
2 west, 2 east, 1 for turning. Bike lanes on both sides, back-angle parking.
In class, I draw the cross-section, imagining renovations and repairs.
18-foot sidewalks, timed lights.
Streets and intersections: I can know these. I can cross them over and over
Unlike some bridges. I measure lane widths.
Meagan says I am a slightly dampened version of myself.
I am cross and flustered. I redesign roads while my emotions lie cluttered.
An undergraduate in sweatpants walks past, carrying a lacrosse stick.
Its netting is stiff like his expression and my lately limber mind.
I loved someone who didn’t love me. That’s all it is.
It is like being stuck at an intersection, unable to cross.
I watch the red pedestrian signal, feel the cars plummet past,
north, south, west, east, I cross myself.
What is it called when two people have an ESV Bible,
A Spanish New Testament,
A Merriam-Webster dictionary,
A Greek New Testament,
A Greek lexicon,
And the internet
All open at the same time, looking up the etymology of jealousy versus envy?
Then later a roommate, in a black and white sweater,
lilts across the kitchen making sweet potatoes and a salad-
from one counter to another, she leans into what she does
like grass leans in the wind-
and salmon goes into the oven.
And there is a recording of “Gaudete” in sung in cockney accents.
Then a friend comes over with music in his hands,
Trying to put it into your clumsy hands, and you practice conducting entrances on the second eighth note of the down-beat.
What is it called when he and Meagan sit in the afternoon-lit living room
And talk about thought and emotion and the Aeolian harp
And whether a Brahms piece sounds like it was meant for strings or organ?
We have all of this and no name for it.
O peace of imprecision, of gifts that waft like fragrance, out of definition’s reach.
Back in April, I wrote about lists: The truth is, I have internalized Rilke when he said that perhaps we are here simply to make lists: House. Bridge. Fountain. Gate. Pitcher. Apple tree. Window. To say things as they are in their integrity, without embellishment.
Last New Year’s Day, I made my first and only New Year’s resolution: to make a note each evening of something beautiful I saw or experienced that day. I set a repeating reminder on my phone and didn’t miss a day. It became a precious ritual, and I think it made me progressively more mindful and grateful. I want to share some of the 365 beautiful things with you, interspersed with a few mediocre iPhone pictures.
1. Ben climbing to the outside of a fence at the arboretum to look over the ledge: “Everything is an adventure.”
6. Driving to Austin in 30 degree cold with rhapsody in blue on the radio and the clouds rolling away from the sun
16. Ran past restaurants this morning- and past Christmas trees left out for bulk pickup. It smelled like breakfast on Christmas.
Books I read in 2016: the latest in a string of consecutively shorter lists.
(following asterisks denote previously read)
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
The Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard
Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Meditations by Marcus Aurelius
Shadow Puppets by Orson Scott Card
Till We Have Built Jerusalem: Architecture, Urbanism, and the Sacred by Philip Bess
The Small Rain by Madeleine L’Engle
Hamlet by William Shakespeare*
A Man for All Seasons by Robert Bolt
Macbeth by William Shakespeare
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Postmillennialism by Keith Mathison
Whose Body? by Dorothy Sayers
Antigone by Sophocles
Bold Love by Dan B. Allender
The Essential Rilke selected and translated by Galway Kinnell and Hannah Liebmann
The Man Who Was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton*
Passion and Purity by Elizabeth Elliot
A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver
Night Flight by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Harvest Poems by Carl Sandburg
The Power Broker by Robert Caro
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling*
Heidegger in 90 Minutes by Paul Strathern
Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers
What’s Best Next? by Matt Perman
The Franchise Affair by Josephine Tey
What Matters? Economics for a Renewed Commonwealth by Wendell Berry
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Strong Poison by Dorothy Sayers
Have His Carcase by Dorothy Sayers
The Confessions of Saint Augustine*
The Collected Poems of William Butler Yeats