Hearing someone's voice for the first time is always a delight. You're suddenly aware of another human being, tangible, real. Technology has it's advantages, I can't deny that.
I loved your reading as much as your writing, Jonathan.
I listened to your recording yesterday evening Jonathan, I walked in the door after a hellishly difficult and noisy day, changed my shoes and walked straight out again calling a message to husband and son that I would be back in time to make food… I was immediately calmed, not only by your excruciatingly beautiful prose but by your voice too, thank you, it was exactly the remedy needed on a Friday evening….
“Soon she will head into her day, not to take part in the world but to be the world, not to be tempted by the ever gushing fountain of trivial tinsel, but instead to look each and every one squarely in the eye and see them in their struggle or their triumph or their defeat or their arrogance and treat them all with the same gracious manner, regardless of gain or favour, for that is what should be done.”
I read this and sigh… I have not been gracious this month in spite of every effort…
You are so welcome Susie. That scene of a small slice of life made me feel very happy. Especially after reading May(hem) earlier, and having had a strange feeling of weather-sympathy for someone living in SW France. Not a common feeling for us up here in the North!
I'm going to release one more back catalogue piece next (most likely), with a "podcast-ish" talk about writing and life tacked on, so I hope you'll enjoy that.
Hope that blasted cold drop leaves make's its way home soon!
“…and we bask in the power and beauty of those words left unsaid.”
Those of us who love deeply will take the words that touch our soul and willingly follow to the ends of the earth and well beyond.
Listening with one hand on Ranger, sitting by the shore . We both slip into the lullaby of your voice in duet with the soft lapping of water. Mesmerizing and wonderful .
I consider it a very high compliment coming from you. Truthfully, my words only come when I am inspired. Or some would say, when the spirit moves me. For instance, after reading one of your posts 😊. And besides, there would only be silent chirps in word form if I had to write consistently and often. Incidentally, Ranger and I were really sitting by the lake. We have a seasonal camp in the NEK
( Northeast kingdom of Vermont, yes, strange name) . Camp literally hangs over the water’s edge. Ranger’s playground. A magical place. Now you can understand where lullaby came from. Listening to your audio , with the sun reflecting of the water below, we were both falling asleep. Quick glass of iced tea, and I am back to filling pots to plant. Also wanted to tell you that it has been awhile since I’ve listened. While I always thought your ability to ‘tell’ the story was wonderful, now, you have ‘set the bar’ to the highest. ( Throw Benny a biscuit from me).
Jonathan, my friend...Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan.
I was rereading your post, letting it swirl around me, and really sink deep into me. I love your writing - how descriptive and lovely it is. I was thinking you are so poetic in the way you write. I'm not even sure that is the right way to describe it because I interpret poems as brief and condensed, like a concentrated slice of life, simmered down to a thick sauce.
You have that same wonder and curiosity, a way of looking at the world as a poet and yet somehow, you inflate life, you give it hope and space and let it breathe.
And then you went and added your voice. :-) It enhances, for sure, what you write. Also, you've spoken your heart out loud, into the ether, which is always a powerful thing to do. Anyway, thank you for this blessing!! I'm not ashamed to admit it brought me to tears listening. Apparently, they needed to come. XO
That's such a wonderful comment Danielle. I feel very grateful you've found something in my writing and your description of my prose as poetic is so very kind. Hope and space and let it breathe. Perfect.
I think of writing as a type of craft, to be learned and practiced, and I love that your reading my writing and seeing and feeling the craft. Thanks.
There is something isn't there, about one's sphere of concerns and one's sphere of influence? The less powerful one is, the less their sphere of influence overlaps their sphere of concern. The more powerful one is, the more ones sphere of influence overlaps their sphere of concern. This is a great injustice in these times of such inequality that even the ancient Pharaohs of Egypt would be blushing with the shame.
Whenever I see someone selflessly sharing their love and kindness I wonder how this great inequality every gained ground, when the good seems so fundamental.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting , Michael, I'm really pleased your here :)
Wait, wait, see if you can imagine this . Built in the 70s (not by us) some crazy dude had an idea. He eyed the rocky shoreline and selected a massive pile of boulders to build the camp around ( used to be the site of an old granite quarry) . Inside, boulder meets sheet rock , post and beam. Outside, wood siding meets boulder… Now add that to your dream.
Hearing someone's voice for the first time is always a delight. You're suddenly aware of another human being, tangible, real. Technology has it's advantages, I can't deny that.
I loved your reading as much as your writing, Jonathan.
Thanks so much Fontini. Seems we belong to a mutual admiration society :) It's funny wit the voice, sometimes it seems to work, other times, bah.
Anyway, would you mind if I suggested this one to listen to? I think (hope) you'll like it: https://jonathanfostersthecrow.substack.com/p/scribble-and-shout
I listened to your recording yesterday evening Jonathan, I walked in the door after a hellishly difficult and noisy day, changed my shoes and walked straight out again calling a message to husband and son that I would be back in time to make food… I was immediately calmed, not only by your excruciatingly beautiful prose but by your voice too, thank you, it was exactly the remedy needed on a Friday evening….
“Soon she will head into her day, not to take part in the world but to be the world, not to be tempted by the ever gushing fountain of trivial tinsel, but instead to look each and every one squarely in the eye and see them in their struggle or their triumph or their defeat or their arrogance and treat them all with the same gracious manner, regardless of gain or favour, for that is what should be done.”
I read this and sigh… I have not been gracious this month in spite of every effort…
You are so welcome Susie. That scene of a small slice of life made me feel very happy. Especially after reading May(hem) earlier, and having had a strange feeling of weather-sympathy for someone living in SW France. Not a common feeling for us up here in the North!
I'm going to release one more back catalogue piece next (most likely), with a "podcast-ish" talk about writing and life tacked on, so I hope you'll enjoy that.
Hope that blasted cold drop leaves make's its way home soon!
“…and we bask in the power and beauty of those words left unsaid.”
Those of us who love deeply will take the words that touch our soul and willingly follow to the ends of the earth and well beyond.
Listening with one hand on Ranger, sitting by the shore . We both slip into the lullaby of your voice in duet with the soft lapping of water. Mesmerizing and wonderful .
Sometimes when I read your comments, Lor, I wonder why you don't write more yourself.
Listening with one hand on Ranger
Sitting by the shore
We both slip into the lullaby
Of your voice
In duet
With the soft lapping
Of water
Isn't that beautiful?
Thanks so much again.
I’ve thought the very same thing. Lor, you could build a Substack from your soaring comments only.
Thank you Jonathan!
I consider it a very high compliment coming from you. Truthfully, my words only come when I am inspired. Or some would say, when the spirit moves me. For instance, after reading one of your posts 😊. And besides, there would only be silent chirps in word form if I had to write consistently and often. Incidentally, Ranger and I were really sitting by the lake. We have a seasonal camp in the NEK
( Northeast kingdom of Vermont, yes, strange name) . Camp literally hangs over the water’s edge. Ranger’s playground. A magical place. Now you can understand where lullaby came from. Listening to your audio , with the sun reflecting of the water below, we were both falling asleep. Quick glass of iced tea, and I am back to filling pots to plant. Also wanted to tell you that it has been awhile since I’ve listened. While I always thought your ability to ‘tell’ the story was wonderful, now, you have ‘set the bar’ to the highest. ( Throw Benny a biscuit from me).
Your camp in the NEK must be a beautiful place. I'm heading to sleep to dream of hanging camps and iced tea and endless rolling hills. How wonderful.
Lovely voiceover, Jonathan!
Thank you so much Diane 🙏🏼
Jonathan, my friend...Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan.
I was rereading your post, letting it swirl around me, and really sink deep into me. I love your writing - how descriptive and lovely it is. I was thinking you are so poetic in the way you write. I'm not even sure that is the right way to describe it because I interpret poems as brief and condensed, like a concentrated slice of life, simmered down to a thick sauce.
You have that same wonder and curiosity, a way of looking at the world as a poet and yet somehow, you inflate life, you give it hope and space and let it breathe.
And then you went and added your voice. :-) It enhances, for sure, what you write. Also, you've spoken your heart out loud, into the ether, which is always a powerful thing to do. Anyway, thank you for this blessing!! I'm not ashamed to admit it brought me to tears listening. Apparently, they needed to come. XO
That's such a wonderful comment Danielle. I feel very grateful you've found something in my writing and your description of my prose as poetic is so very kind. Hope and space and let it breathe. Perfect.
I think of writing as a type of craft, to be learned and practiced, and I love that your reading my writing and seeing and feeling the craft. Thanks.
You've made my day Danielle.
"But who would listen? / She. She would listen."
That is so powerful. We don't need the world to hear us. We just need our words to reach the few that can change the world.
There is something isn't there, about one's sphere of concerns and one's sphere of influence? The less powerful one is, the less their sphere of influence overlaps their sphere of concern. The more powerful one is, the more ones sphere of influence overlaps their sphere of concern. This is a great injustice in these times of such inequality that even the ancient Pharaohs of Egypt would be blushing with the shame.
Whenever I see someone selflessly sharing their love and kindness I wonder how this great inequality every gained ground, when the good seems so fundamental.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting , Michael, I'm really pleased your here :)
Yayyy voice memo from you again!
And another one next week I reckon :)
I remember this when first I read it and it's better now. Just plain good, good, good.
Thanks, thanks, thanks Wes :)
Agreed! Beautiful reading and I’m happy you brought this one forward again!
Thanks Brian, I really appreciate that because I know you've been doing some excellent readings yourself here on Substack that people should look up.
Wait, wait, see if you can imagine this . Built in the 70s (not by us) some crazy dude had an idea. He eyed the rocky shoreline and selected a massive pile of boulders to build the camp around ( used to be the site of an old granite quarry) . Inside, boulder meets sheet rock , post and beam. Outside, wood siding meets boulder… Now add that to your dream.