About The Oar and the Umbrella

Painting by Sylvia Lefkovitz

I like stories more than descriptions, myth more than metaphor, worlds more than worldviews. I prefer to hear about a place someone loves rather than their analysis of the environment. I prefer to pray with someone more than hear their statement of belief. In this Substack space, I root my writing in story, myth, places, prayers and the many worlds being born today.

Here, you will find two kinds of stories.

The first, under the title “Beneath the Umbrella,” are intimate stories from the nearby world. I tell these in opposition to the faraway stories of industrial media, which trick us into thinking the most real things are happening beyond our homes. A common question motivates my stories: How to become reinhabited by the holy land, which we are always standing within, when we have become blinded to this holy land by a global network of industrial narratives? If that sounds too grand, the stories are not. I’m a husband and father of two. We live in an old log house we rebuilt, carry in and out our water, cook with a wood stove. My prophets live outside my door, in this unglaciated region of the Upper Midwest, just east of the Mississippi River, in a land of ridgetops and hills, hollows and valleys.

The other thread of stories I tell here are titled “Home Burial.” In the winter of 2023, my father died. He was 69, and for 20 years had experienced what is medically known as early-onset Alzheimer's, but spiritually very little understood. In the hours and days following his final breath, a community of family and friends helped us wash his body, sit vigil with his body, dig a grave in the woods, hold a funeral at home, and lay his body to rest. This essay series explores how we might tend our loved ones ourselves when we have forgotten so much, and when an industrial infrastructure of care has become the norm.

I find it difficult to write about what I write, to describe my narrations. It’s too heady, too meta. The best way to see what The Oar and the Umbrella is about is to read a couple stories here and see if they resonate.

Currently, I post an essay every other Saturday morning. You can read everything with either a paid subscription or a free subscription. Over the long run, paid subscriptions will help make this project sustainable for me. That said, I will be grateful for any support you can give, whether monetary or simply your attention.

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Words about things machines cannot make. Words for birthing worlds.

People

Joseph is my great grandfather's, grandfather's and uncle's name. Orso means bear.