Jen Hinst-White

 

S  E  P  T  E  M  B  E  R

• H  E  L  L  O  S •

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THE NEWEST NEWS:

•  On Saturday, Oct. 7, at 2 pm, I’ll be reading from my work at The Wild Project in the East Village, NYC, in conjunction with Outside Paducah, a new play about the toll of war. 

•  On Saturday, Sept. 16 at 6:30 pm I’ll be playing a set at House of Brews in Port Jefferson, NY (with Rob Hinst, as The Scrivening Bartlebys).

•  I have essays forthcoming in Image Journal (November 2017) and Consequence Magazine (winter 2018).

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And if we’re not yet acquainted: Hello! I’m Jen. I write. I speak. I like to be alive. I’ve written a novel about tattooing with spunky illustrations (and I’m looking for a great agent or indie press to bring it into the world). I write essays and stories; I review books; occasionally I make a little music or deliver an unconventional sermon for those (like me) who waffle between the skeptics and the mystics. Should we talk? Connect on Twitter? Instagram?

Cheers & love, Jen Hinst-White

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what they did with the grief.

I have never met anyone like them.

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It was just over a year since the 9/11 attacks, and Andrew Rice was still grieving the loss of his brother in the South Tower of the World Trade Center.

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sneak out with us . . .

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Got any plans this Saturday evening?

Rob Hinst and I will be playing live music as The Scrivening Bartlebys this SATURDAY, SEPT. 16, at House of Brews in Port Jefferson, NY.

It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it set, from 6:30 to 7:00 pm (but if you stick around afterwards, you’ll be treated to acoustic magic by musician/wordsmith Paul Rosevear). You don’t even need a babysitter—kids welcome. 

What is it? Let’s call it…Sultry Covers. Rob on guitar. Me singing & playing viola.

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Playing at the Brickhouse Brewery in Patchogue

The history: Back when we started dating at age 14, I played viola in the school orchestra, sang in the stairwell, and Rob could play, like, the guitar riff from “Smoke on the Water.” Then I got into traditional Irish music and sea songs, and started singing and playing at festivals and whaling museums. Meanwhile, Rob was secretly acquiring delicious guitar skills. We started playing covers of contemporary indie/folky songs (or whatever strikes our fancy) together. Now our favorite thing to do after the kids fall asleep is share a glass of wine and sneak out our instruments…and once in a while, we come out of the shadows and do a little show.

We only do this once in a blue moon… Hope you’ll sneak out with us.

PS The photo above is from my profoundly talented photographer friend, Sopo (Sofia) Titvinidze. Blog post on her to come soon.

 

 

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empty space.

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(my kitchen)

Sine proprio. It means “without grasping.” It’s Latin, a phrase used in the vows taken by Franciscan friars—or that’s what I learned from my friar friend, anyway.

Specifically, sine proprio is the phrase used for the vow of Poverty. I would’ve thought they’d use a phrase like “without money” for a vow of poverty. But the point isn’t strictly the not-having. It’s the giving-away. For St. Francis and his early followers, sine proprio meant giving away even the ragged clothes from their own bodies, even their last handfuls of food, if they came upon another person who was hungry or poorly clothed.

Whatever comes into your hands, you choose to hold lightly— and freely release it, if need be, for the sake of love.

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desire.

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My newest Quirky Sermon:
Desire (Under Construction).

Specifically: A approach we might take with our desires, other than knee-jerk chasing or knee-jerk squashing. Our desire as electricity, engine, construction site: a space for encountering God.

Watch it here.

The sermon starts 19 minutes into the video, after the band. 

I had so much fun creating and delivering this one. Laughed a lot, as usual. Among other things, it includes

  • An exercise in which I help you make a map of your desires
  • Four references to tacos
  • Knicks announcer Walt Clyde Frazier
  • Creamy citrus body wash and semi-automatic weapons
  • Two different ideas of manliness

and the two ideas I can never get away from:

  1. Love at the core of all we do, and
  2. God’s wild dreams for the world.

Enjoy, you passionate bunch of sermon-watchers, you.

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the beautiful mess

I often look around at other people’s religious belief the way I look at their perfect lush lawns. How did they make that look so nice and tidy and easy?

Mine will never be like that, and I’m at peace with that. (See Quirky Sermons.)

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I got to speak at True North Community Church this weekend as part of a series they’re doing called Under Construction—what it looks like to be a work in progress. I talked specifically about the beauty of doubts, questions, skepticism—and how much fear a lot of people experience around these things. How they are actually a vital part of our spirituality. How there’s something to be said for faith that doesn’t look as easy, neat and tidy as a suburban lawn.

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Click here to watch.

The talk is about 23 minutes in (after a sweet music set by visiting musicians The Brothers McClurg and Ian Zumback).

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Among other things, I talked about how faith is not supposed to be something you conjure up in a vacuum for your own benefit. It’s meant to DO THINGS—to open the door for greater acts of love in the real world. Speaking of which:

I am so grateful for the hundreds of clergy who traveled to Charlottesville, VA this week to protest against white supremacy. I was moved by this account of the counter-protest from Brian McLaren. 

I’m continually grateful for people like Red Letter Christians, who take justice and mercy seriously.

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And I was so grateful yesterday to share the stage with the gifted musicians Ian Zumback and the Brothers McClurg, who stopped by as part of their “Back to Their Roots” tour. On a weekend when the ugliness in our culture was so bold and so public, I was glad to sit in the dark backstage listening to Ian ‘s new song “Entertaining Angels,” about the choice to do simple, quiet acts of love. It began with the words I will be your hospital…

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Fiction that Glimmers in Darkness (Review Series)

Opening up my mailbox to find indie (literary) books I might never otherwise discover is one of the pleasures of reviewing for IMAGE Journal. Each month I get to read and ponder a new one for their digest of delights, ImageUpdate, and recently it was Animal Heart, a collection of short stories by Paul Luikart.

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Luikart has worked in homeless services for the past 15 years. This wasn’t why I chose the book to review—I just enjoyed reading it, out of a large stack I’d been sent—but that fact did pique my interest. It’s a tricky thing (or has been for me), splitting a life between two vocations that, however rewarding, do draw on the energy of the soul. Almost all the paid jobs of my adult life, too, have been for nonprofit organizations. Nonprofit work can be deeply meaningful. And disillusioning. And enlightening. And deadening. And all kinds of other ings, not least of which, on good days and bad, is tiring…

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After the Storm (Song Series #18)

We almost didn’t make the visit; it stormed in the morning. But the day shook off the rain and we headed east, miles of wet vineyards glowing green in the new light—my bearded beloved, my wee boys & me.

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Out in Greenport, at the house of our good friend V. Hansmann (poet, essayist, and host of the Cornelia Street Reading Series), we ate grilled corn-on-the-cob.

“What’s your favorite word?” I asked.

The 3-year-old jumped on it. “Dump truck or cement truck,” he said, “or magic wand.”

“Observations,” said the 7-year-old.

“Three words,” said my husband. “Good night, boys.”

“Bioluminescence,” said V.

After dinner we walked down the street to the harbor, where the hundred-year-old carousel is still spinning. It was built upstate and then after WWII it belonged to the Grumman plant, where my grandfather built airplanes, and it could’ve been lost when the plant shut down, but Grumman gave it to this little port town.

August opens: Gold light. Third life for a carousel. Observations; bioluminescence; magic wand.

After the Storm

Vocal & viola: Jen Hinst-White

Guitar: Rob Hinst

Written by Shovels & Rope

 

Ain’t it funny
How time just seems to run
What the hell have you been doin’?
Not too sure, guess mostly movin’…
I’ve been spinnin’ for so long
Now I guess I’m spun

Like the widest river
Like the brightest morn
There is hope where you can’t see it
There is a light after the storm

—Shovels & Rope, “After the Storm”

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