I'm 73 and have more thoughts about the next step. I of course want more time but I'm definitely closer to the end than J.E. Bartel. To read such depth, clarity, understanding and beauty of what is coming from one in her 20s was a blessing. Thank you.
This is so beautiful. It brought me consolation this morning and encouraged me to write into my own wounds more deeply and expect the grace of God to meet me there. Thank you.
Absolutely beautiful! I love the perfect balance between the history of Keats, Bertel's own life, a few of the Saints, and Christianity's take on pain, death, and joy in suffering. Thank you. Well done!
Stunning! Excruciating beauty that touched the innermost soul and essence of our fragile human nature. And at the same time; pointed to the hope available to us in suffering and loss. Well done.
Thank you for sharing such an intensely personal and lyrical piece. Reading your words brought to mind Alan Wolfelt's concept of "sitting in the wound of your grief," which resonated deeply with me after a significant loss a few years ago: "If possible, stop what you are doing, close your eyes, breathe deeply, and allow the pain to wash over you. I call it ‘sitting in the wound of your grief.’”
As I read, I tried to think of someone I’d encountered, read, or known who embraced suffering with the same redemptive perspective that St. Francis of Assisi or St. Therese of Lisieux held, seeing pain as a pathway to Christ. I couldn’t bring anyone to mind and wondered if it was just a lapse in memory—or if, in a more secular and rationalistic age, it has become harder to see or live suffering in this way.
I echo the comments on the beauty of this essay and the comfort given. I thank God for presenting that nightingale to Keats. One of His gifts. One that has benefited millions-like us today......I was telling my wife this morning about a book by Donna Tartt called The Little Friend. Said "It is all about loss. So many losses." We discussed our losses. (which are trivial compared to 99% of the world.)........and then his words and your reflections appeared. Just like the nightingale. Another gift.
Your loneliness and your empathy and your awareness of the loss and suffering of this world is a severe mercy from our Creator. Severe? Yes. But definitely a mercy. Blessings to you.
This was a beautiful, consoling, and tearjerking piece. Reading it, I wish I could have reached back in time to you at your twenties to give you a hug and tell you it was all going to be ok. Your writing has been an encouragement and an enjoyment to read. As someone who does often write into his own wounds, it is encouraging to hear others tell about how they wrote their way out, as you put it so aptly. Hope you have a wonderful week and this missive finds you well.
Why is the wail of the loon more comforting than the chirping of a spring hatchling? There is a kinship in the song of nature that shares the curse with us and reminds us we are created for a greater life.
I loved your essay. A brush witih death, both perceived and real, and even for a beloved one, changes us. How you tied that to Keats' writing, his introspection, reveals the treasure of life. Thank you for sharing.
I'm 73 and have more thoughts about the next step. I of course want more time but I'm definitely closer to the end than J.E. Bartel. To read such depth, clarity, understanding and beauty of what is coming from one in her 20s was a blessing. Thank you.
This is so beautiful. It brought me consolation this morning and encouraged me to write into my own wounds more deeply and expect the grace of God to meet me there. Thank you.
Beautifully written
Absolutely beautiful! I love the perfect balance between the history of Keats, Bertel's own life, a few of the Saints, and Christianity's take on pain, death, and joy in suffering. Thank you. Well done!
Stunning! Excruciating beauty that touched the innermost soul and essence of our fragile human nature. And at the same time; pointed to the hope available to us in suffering and loss. Well done.
What a gift this essay is! Thank you.
Thank you for sharing such an intensely personal and lyrical piece. Reading your words brought to mind Alan Wolfelt's concept of "sitting in the wound of your grief," which resonated deeply with me after a significant loss a few years ago: "If possible, stop what you are doing, close your eyes, breathe deeply, and allow the pain to wash over you. I call it ‘sitting in the wound of your grief.’”
As I read, I tried to think of someone I’d encountered, read, or known who embraced suffering with the same redemptive perspective that St. Francis of Assisi or St. Therese of Lisieux held, seeing pain as a pathway to Christ. I couldn’t bring anyone to mind and wondered if it was just a lapse in memory—or if, in a more secular and rationalistic age, it has become harder to see or live suffering in this way.
A beautiful, moving piece. Thank you.
I echo the comments on the beauty of this essay and the comfort given. I thank God for presenting that nightingale to Keats. One of His gifts. One that has benefited millions-like us today......I was telling my wife this morning about a book by Donna Tartt called The Little Friend. Said "It is all about loss. So many losses." We discussed our losses. (which are trivial compared to 99% of the world.)........and then his words and your reflections appeared. Just like the nightingale. Another gift.
Your loneliness and your empathy and your awareness of the loss and suffering of this world is a severe mercy from our Creator. Severe? Yes. But definitely a mercy. Blessings to you.
"To relieve some of the burden of living by weaving a creative spark of beauty out of it." Beautiful. Thank you for this.
Yessssss @jebartel is the best 🙌🙌🙌
🥹 is that THE griffin gooch?!
Hello Ms. Bartel,
This was a beautiful, consoling, and tearjerking piece. Reading it, I wish I could have reached back in time to you at your twenties to give you a hug and tell you it was all going to be ok. Your writing has been an encouragement and an enjoyment to read. As someone who does often write into his own wounds, it is encouraging to hear others tell about how they wrote their way out, as you put it so aptly. Hope you have a wonderful week and this missive finds you well.
Thank you. Your essay is a gift.
Beautiful! Inspires me to read Keats in the near future. I was unaware of his personal history. Thankful for the sharing of your experience.
Why is the wail of the loon more comforting than the chirping of a spring hatchling? There is a kinship in the song of nature that shares the curse with us and reminds us we are created for a greater life.
This essay is very moving. And it’s a reminder of how our education is about so much more than degrees and jobs.
I loved your essay. A brush witih death, both perceived and real, and even for a beloved one, changes us. How you tied that to Keats' writing, his introspection, reveals the treasure of life. Thank you for sharing.