The Quiet Delay

a confession and a re-introduction

Photo by Balazs Busznyak on Unsplash

Dear Readers, Welcome Back to The Wildroot Parables!

It is January 2024, and we’re one month away from celebrating TWO YEARS of (mostly) consistent, weekly posting on this newsletter. I still can’t quite wrap my mind around that!

In this special-edition post, I wanted to take a quick look at the crazy year that just passed, give you all a little bit of a taste of where my mind has been, and hopefully present you with a vision of where this newsletter is going, as we head into a new year.

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A Look Back

2023 was a fascinating year, in so many ways. In April, Substack launched their Notes feature, and the generous 200 subscribers I had gathered here suddenly exploded with the newfound discoverability! Then, in May, I decided to start posting my fiction publicly for the first time on a new newsletter, Talebones, and I’ve been on a bit of a roller coaster, ever since. 

In the wake of the launch of Talebones, the dear ol’ Wildroot Parables held on for dear life while its little sister got a bit (a lot) more of my attention. Sure, this newsletter got somewhat of a facelift and some little renovations here and there, but nothing near as detailed as Talebones got. 

Now that my fiction site has settled into a steady routine, my gaze falls back on The Wildroot Parables and how she fits into the wider scheme of my creative journey. I still love (and need) her quiet presence in my writing life, and I have been so humbled and honored that you all have stuck around for my words, here, despite never really landing on a consistent tone or routine (at least, from my view). 

A Confession

Something I have struggled with for a long time, even longer than The Wildroot Parables has been on Substack, is my identity when it comes to nonfictional, more personal writing. I wrestle very much with the idea of why anyone should read my reflections. And that isn’t false modesty; I just never really know what folks are looking for when they look for spiritual writing.

Alongside my own anxieties, the more that Substack as a platform has grown, the more incredible resources there are to choose from if you’re interested in faith writing, seasonal living, liturgical rhythms, and nature-focused spirituality of any stripe. I often find myself wondering: with so much out there to read and learn from, where does The Wildroot Parables fit? 

This week, I was supposed to post here on Monday, and I simply didn’t. The new year had me a little bit paralyzed, overthinking what it is that you gracious readers want to see, from me. Feeling a bit like I’ve been trying to do something here that doesn’t feel fully comfortable. Holding myself to the wrong standard.

The truth is, I am not an expert in liturgical living or seasonal rhythms. I love my Celtic Christian faith and studies, but I don’t know everything there is to know. I am not very thoroughly-read, despite loving to collect resources and dabbling where I can. Most of the time, it’s a victory if I can even remember a particular saint day or observance, let alone celebrate it. Our lives here on these five acres are often rough and tumble and very mundane, bills and chores and groceries and cleaning the fridge and sweeping up dog hair.  

And after worrying myself into a tizzy over this, I finally landed here:  I am an untidy pilgrim on an overgrown path, just like so many of you probably are. A manic mystic, always a little bit behind—in quiet delay—despite all of my good intentions. Moving through the world largely by feel. Doing my best. Living day-to-day at God’s pleasure.

I think, perhaps, that’s exactly where I need to be. Recognizing my innate untidyness in a world that puts a high premium on the slick and the easy-to-consume.

I am not an expert in anything except being in a constant state of open-handed neediness before my Creator.  

Moving Forward

Over the next week or so, nearing this newsletter’s second anniversary, I am going to be doing a little bit of reconstruction and re-strategizing. For many of you, the changes will be imperceptible. But the philosophical underpinnings of how I approach this newsletter will shift a bit, and hopefully crystallize. 

Here are the brass tacks:

• Mondays: I am going to continue sharing my short poetry-based devotionals with a meditation on Monday mornings. I really love writing these, and you seem to enjoy reading them, so I would love to keep doing them. I like the idea of creating something that folks can consume easily with a cup of coffee, and be encouraged at the start of every week. This brings me joy.

• Thursdays: Here is where some of the philosophical changes may be more apparent. I have always left a little bit too much room on Thursdays for my posts to be about “whatever”. I’ve never liked calling them essays, since they’re usually not true essays, but I couldn’t really think of something else to call them. Funny enough, the answer was in the title of this newsletter all along. Going forward, I’m intending for my Thursday posts to be parables of my life as an untidy creative in service of a Creator. This may include more creative nonfiction, reflections about writing and creativity, and how the seasons and spirituality inform my craft. There may be occasional mentions of saint days and observances, but only as they touch the realities of my life. It’s a subtle shift, maybe, but an important distinction to me.

In all honesty, I expect that there will be some shuffling and growing pains as I land on topics—and a format—that truly interest me, and that resonate with you.

There also may be further renovations around the site itself as I sort through my use of tags, categories, sections, and other Substack features to figure out a system that works best for all of us.

If that all sounds a bit too haphazard for you, I promise you that there are no hard feelings if there are other places you would rather subscribe and apply your attention. Please take my grace with you as you go. Attention is a true currency in this fast-paced world.

But if you have the patience to take this ride with me, I truly believe that there could be some interesting revelations on the horizon for us about God, grace, and the good things on the far side of the everyday.

To Conclude

If you’ve been here from the beginning: thank you. 

If you joined in along the way: thank you.

If you’re new here: welcome. 

If you’re willing to stay and see what shakes out of this untidy traveler’s pen, then take my hand, and let’s get started. 

Blessings, 

S.E. Reid