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Summary: A full spirit in the stillness of emptiness
Review: 'Nature, in Dakota, can indeed be an experience of the holy.'From the earliest days of Christianity (and indeed, since the earliest days of religion, period!), women and men have sought understanding in the the large, unpopulated expanses of the earth, far from the madding crowds of urban life. Moses discerned his call from God in the desert wanderings after fleeing Egypt, only to return as the Deliverer; Jesus' first act after baptism was to wander the desert; Mohammed had his desert experience; prophets, sages, wise women and men have always found in the solitude and magnitude of places such as Dakota a spirituality hard to express. Kathleen Norris, however, does an admirable and enlightening job of putting words to that very ephemeral concept. Combining personal stories with prayerful reflections and mediations, Norris weaves together a book whose riches slowly unfold only for those who give particular attention; however, it yields treasure to even the most cursory of readers, too. Neither Kathleen Norris nor her husband were natives of the land, both having come from vastly different places than the sparsely populated, silent and enigmatic plains. Yet Norris has become a spokeswoman of sorts for the spirituality that is found in a place such as this, the modern equivalent of the early Christian Desert Fathers. Like those early fathers (alas, not much is recorded about the women who made such decisions in favour of isolation), she has attached both a meditative and monastic framework to her searchings. Being a protestant by upbringing, Norris brings a critical, outsider view to the understanding of monastic practice and the spirituality inherent therein. One of the particular vows of a Benedictine monastic, the variety with which Norris has become most familiar, is the vow of stability--i.e., to remain in one place. Remaining in one place is important, for in the modern world (as in past times) there is a tendency to see residence in any given place as impermanent and transitory; it is only by becoming wedded to a place that one can get to understand the hidden and secret aspects that are crucial to forming the fabric of life in such places. Dakota is one such place. Those of us who are more urban cultured (and, chances are, 92% of you reading this are urban- or suburban-cultured) tend to regard the plains as empty. 'Everything that seems empty is full of the angels of God.' - St. Hilary The Plains have become for Norris, quite simply, her monastery -- her place to be apart and to be set apart, so that she may thrive and grow. There is room to move and grow. There is silence to grow into, without the problem of being caught by the noise and stunted. There is an emptiness to contemplate, to fill, to deplete, and to marvel at as it continues its vast expanse. How much more of a spiritual awakening can one have than to witness the passing of a storm, seen rolling in from miles away, to fill a vast expansive sky, and then to dissipate, leaving the wideness free again to its original stillness? In the contemplation of such natural events, the wonders of all creation become present. Of course, Norris points out the advantages of this kind of isolation. 'Living in a town so small that, as one friend puts it, the poets and ministers have to hang out together has its advantages. We raid each other's libraries and sustain decent arguments on matters of science, politics, and religion. ...There is a wariness on both sides: poets and Christians have been at odds with one another, off and on, for two thousand years. There is also trust: we are people who believe in the power of words to effect change in the human heart.' Norris intersperses weather reports with her narratives and essays -- weather being a crucial and vital elemen to the life of the plains. After all, one might get wisked off to Oz by the upcoming twister. Alas, this happens all to often in spiritual development -- one becomes mesmerised by the storm, the power and awesome force, the elegance, or one becomes terrified; rarely does one have a neutral response. How one responds to the internal storms makes all the difference. One spiritual director of mine used to start our discussions with the 'weather report', by which he meant for me to report simply what is happening spiritually, with a minimum of interpretation (saying a cloud looks like Mickey Mouse may be well and good, but is that cloud just floating by or is it turning into a tornado?). Life on the plains, life on the farm, is earnestly cyclical, as is the pattern of the rule of monasticism. The cycle is never ending, regardless of any events or crises that may arise--the community carries on, and life carries on, always with the long-term in view. The storm will pass, the seasons will pass, the harvest will come, and come again, and again. And still it all remains. Thomas Merton wrote: Love winter when the plant says nothing.
Be still
Listen to the stones of the wall
Be silent, they try
To speak your
Name.
Listen
To the living walls.
Who are you?
Who
Are you? Whose
Silence are you? Dakota is a place to find the answers. Come find treasures beyond rubies in the empty fullness of Norris' Dakota.
Rating:
Summary: A thoughtful meditation on living in rural America.
Review: A brilliant reflection on life in the Dakotas--must reading for anybody who romanticizes country living and wants the real scoop--the good, the bad, and the philosophical. Norris is one who finds her quiet, small-town, monklike existence conducive to the meditative labor of writing, and the quality of her book proves that she's hit on a lifestyle that clearly works for her. As one who's lived in a small town but found its cultural gene pool far too shallow, I throught Norris' analysis was exactly correct, and yet I could also understand how she could choose that life for herself, just as I decided it was not for me
Rating: 
Summary: thoroughly enjoyed this.
Review: A random purchase in Melbourne, Australia 2 years ago. A gentle but strong telling of a good life being lived in a small place on the high plains of Dakota. I have never been to Sth Dakota and am unlikely to ever go there. But this book reaffirmed for me that life on the edge(viz. here in New Zealand), away from the big metro centres does have worth and perhaps can offer greater clarity of the things that really matter. Warmly recommended.
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Summary: Empty Spaces
Review: A resident of California, but a native of South Dakota, I understand the grandeur of the vast prairie. Since leaving South Dakota in 1987, I have lived in four cities in four different states. When I first read "Dakota: A Spiritual Geography" I found solice in a journey based in simplicity and humility, when I had traversed these United States in a whirlwind trying to find just that. Simplicity. Humility. "Dakota: A Spiritual Geography" is an honest, thoughtful account of one persons journey in a place that is vast and empty. As empty as the sky. I remember when the book was first published. Many people I spoke with found the book to be offensive and an incorrect vision of what S.Dak and N.Dak life was really like. They felt themselves being riciculed or "made fun of" by a big city author who "had no right". My grandfather an 85 year long time S. Dak educator, mentioned to me that he thought the book was full of cheap shots about the land he loved so much. I marveled at these reactions because they completely mirrored Norris's account of a people so willing to hold on to what they know, what is safe. This one of the dichotemies that she so accurately describes about prairie life. Norris's book taought me a great deal about finding solice in myself. As Continue on my journey, which seems to be geographically diverse I remain aware of the desert that I hold within me. That we all do. It is not a matter of geography but one of having the courage to look within and face those empty spaces we all have. I highly reccomend this soulful, honest and thoughtful slice of Western south Dakota life to anyone who has that courage. MEG
Rating:
Summary: a moving, special book
Review: Buy this book and read it out loud. Norris explores the depths of the human soul in words everyone can grasp. Stories are told honestly and perfectly; there's no fluff here. Make this your next read . . . it'll affect you.
Rating:
Summary: Thought-provoking
Review: Early in the book, Ms. Norris writes, "Reading is a solitary act, . . . but it's also paradoxically public, as it deepens my connections with the larger world." That is what books are supposed to do, and this one does it nicely. The individual sections are short and self-contained, so it lends itself to being read as a book of meditations. The sections entitled "Ghosts" and "Frontier" are especially enduring. I do wish, however, that the youngster who originally wrote "The sky is blue and full of the mind of God" would get a by-line, since Ms. Norris certainly gets a lot of mileage out of it
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Summary: I've Read This Book to Tatters
Review: Her first book, and her best. I keep coming back to it. I've given copies to relatives and friends, and they've given copies to relatives and friends. . .
Rating:
Summary: Hope in desolate places
Review: I grew up in a tiny town in northwestern Minnesota, and hated it. The memories of my loneliness of my childhood there has haunted me ever since. For the longest time, I believed it to be a waste--a place that could be wiped off Earth without anyone noticing. This book gave me hope for revising my beliefs about my place. Norris understands how God can be found in even the most desolate of places. I cried when I read it--sharing Norris' anger at it, but also her defensiveness to those who view such places as wasteland, and ultimately to forgiveness and redemption by cherishing its virtues.
Rating:
Summary: This is the best of Norris' works I have read
Review: I had previously read two other books by Norris: The Cloister Walk and Amazing Grace:A Vocabulary of Faith. I had given copies of both to friends and family. To be honest I didn't expect Dakota to be any better than those two, but I was mistaken. Norris' descriptions of her corner of South Dakota were breathtaking and almost made me want move there. I share a similar faith journey to Norris'and I find her understanding (and lack of understanding)of God as she is learning to know him to be very believable and at times very moving. Norris has to be one of the best writers currently writing about Christianity. I would recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a closer relationship with God, and also to anyone who appreciates good writing.
Rating:
Summary: Thoughtful, but not stellar
Review: I have enjoyed Norris' essays before, and I looked forward to reading an entire book by her. She is a thought-provoking writer with an interesting perspective: a New York City poet who voluntarily moved to Lemmon, North Dakota (pop. ~1,600). She also has a strong relationship with a Benedictine monastery, perhaps unique considering her Protestant roots. These elements make up a book that is part nature writing, part social commentary, and part spiritual exploration. The crossovers between those worlds is delightful. For me, her discussion of the monastic life and other rural religious communities was the most valuable. What does it mean to retreat from the enormous cities in which so many of us live and spend not just a weekend, but a lifetime in what some might consider a barren setting? For Norris, it means learning that the space isn't so much empty as it is full of nothing. (Trust me, the book explains that one.) Yet Norris' commentary about rural living occasionally falls flat. It seems as though much of this has been said before, and in a better organized fashion. The essays could dig deeper than the strictly observation-level writing level on which some of them function. A bigger problem: she could have used a fact-checker. I noticed one glaring error-- page 107, for those interested-- she didn't make note of Texas Tech, and there may be others left off the list of big universities in that stretch of plains America. Sure, that's a small, small detail. But it makes one question her other facts and numbers, and by extension, her arguments. All the same, I like Norris' writing enough to try reading "A Cloister Walk" next. "Dakota" isn't bad-- it just isn't this writer's best.
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