An apocryphal story one tends to hear about writers will feature some author or another being asked by a journalist, “Do you enjoy writing?” to which the subject will inevitably respond, “I enjoy having written.” I think this yarn gets traction because it hits at a truth of any creative or intellectual endeavor: at the end of the day, it’s work. Writing or painting or composing music or doing philosophy, if practiced only when one is in the mood or is struck by inspiration or sudden drive, will inevitably leave one forever at the level of the dilettante.
This is one of the many reasons why classroom education (for all the criticisms one could level at its regular practice) is so valuable: it compels the student for a decade or more to actually commit to the work of the intellectual life. To persevere through primary and secondary school and (for some) a college or university education requires the persistent effort of intellectual labor on a day-to-day basis. There is an excellent formative lesson in this, which is sadly undercut by the half-spoken and implicit admonitions a student all to often hears, which throughout my childhood tended to be something like, “Just get through this, and then you’ll be able to go do something you love, something that doesn’t feel like work.” Because part of becoming an adult is realizing and embracing the truth that love requires work.
The School of Athens by Raphael
All of which is to say: I find myself at times missing school. Now, this might be a surprising thing to hear coming from someone who required fifteen years of on and off effort to complete his Bachelor’s Degree. And, truth be told, once I realized post-graduation that pursuing a graduate degree was not something I actually cared to do, I happily foreswore darkening the door of an educational institute as a student ever again.
But as much as I don’t miss the ADHD-induced anxiety and executive dysfunction associated with formal education, I do find myself missing the structure and external motivation to read deeply and write seriously. Because I do love these things, even if the internal drive to sit down and commit to intellectual work is absent twenty-nine days out of the month. And I love the community that arises out of a shared intellectual passion and pursuit.
That’s where this Substack comes in. If nothing else, I hope to make it a more appropriate place than my Facebook status in which to set down my longer-winded musing on culture, ethics, literature, philosophy, and theology. More than that, however, I hope that it provides me with the structure that all intellectual workers need to seriously investigate those depths that they feel drawn to plumb. I hope that it strengthens my intellectual life by pushing me to read texts critically and with an eye toward commenting, explaining, and soliciting the thoughts and corrections of others. I hope that it becomes an outlet for my prayer life and a means by which to speak of those things of God that tend to well up inside my chest until I feel ready to burst. Finally, I hope that it becomes the foundation of a community where we can nourish and encourage one another in our varied and individual intellectual, spiritual, and creative pursuits.
“You must write throughout the whole of your intellectual life.” - A.G. Sertillanges
Some of the content that you can expect to see in this space in future include:
Book reviews
Literary essays
Meditations on Carmelite spirituality
Sunday scripture commentaries
A long series taking a deep dive through some of the seminal works of political philosophy
The occasional restaurant review or cooking essay
Travelogues
I plan for most of it to be free to all subscribers, especially those topics dealing with the Christian faith. However, if you like what you see and decide to become a paid subscriber, I can promise some exclusive content, including some of my longer form essays.
Thank you for sticking with me through this introductory epistle. You can be on the lookout for my first actual post within the next week. Until then, salvete!