Wendell Berry Love

Oh, how we love us some Wendell Berry around here.
Oh, how his words ease the days.

This is my favorite of his poems--the first time Justin read it to me, I wept. I still cannot get past the part about "the forest that you did not plant" without my eyes brimming with tears. Especially when I see my five little oak trees running out in the field.

...and don't get me started about the line referring to the woman about to give birth...

Manifesto:
The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

by Wendell Berry

Copyright (c)1991, 1996 by Context Institute

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

[august]

[we are in the last weeks now...in the days that feel sometimes like they are playing out under water, where the voices and movements all come in slow motion and muted tones. the babe is still turning and kicking. i think that my belly can not possibly grow another centimeter...and still it does, consistently, ever allowing for the constant growth. my bones feel like they are no longer connected. i keep up with my chores throughout the day, but once the sun goes down, i cannot walk without hobbling, bent at the waist, trying to avoid putting any pressure on my right leg. my feet feel tight in my shoes. i am not wishing the hurt away; it is testimony to what the body and spirit can bear.

he is here, and i must depend on him more and more. he comes up behind me as i cook at the stove and puts his arms around my belly, holding it up against gravity for just a few moments, and there is instant relief from the pain--what one cannot manage is not too much for two. he is carrying all of us now, having to intuit where the gaps lie and fill them, smooth them over... and yet it is i--the one who has no strength left--who must rise up on that fated day and somehow find the effort to give life, and breath, and voice to that searing fire...]

"Our bodies are what we first give to each other as families--as husband and wife, in labor, in birth, and what we leave at death...In order to cherish the body--both those of others and our own--we must first recognize the inescapable fact that it will one day break down and turn to dust. This should trigger a certain urgency in us to care for one another's arms, feet, and face and to enjoy each and every stage a body passes through on its journey from birth to death.

"...Families everywhere must be fed, sheltered, warmed, and held...but in the end it is the way in which we do these everyday tasks, the spirit in which they are done, that determines the atmosphere of a family. It is the way we feed each other, bathe, groom, clothe and lay us down at night that makes a family...When a husband yells from the bathroom, 'Hey, want your hair washed tonight?' it isn't only hair that gets salon treatment, so does the whole self.

"...Families are complicated weavings of light and dark, of hurt and healing. We will hurt each other in ways we didn't intend. We will even hurt each other intentionally...but our hands can heal...anyone who lays on hands gets attached to life...unlike the mind, a body is never without sensing, even in sleep. A body will always remember" [exerpts from The Art of Family, by Gina Bria]

I Know That They Have To Grow Up

...but I love that Reuben thinks that his name is Little Chef

and I love that Reese thinks that the LGMs are a representation of the trinity, because they say they are one

and I love that Cole thinks the name of the crayon is "Violent Red"

and I love that Sean gets his monkey and climbs up and lays on the couch with me when I read at night

10.07

justin one:

nine years ago I said "I will"

eight years ago I said "I do"

today I say "I still"

my friend assures me:

it's all or nothing

I am not worried

I am not overly concerned

my friend implores me:

for one time only,

make an exception

I am not worried

wrap her up in a package of lies

send her off to a coconut island

I am not worried

I am not overly concerned

with the status of my emotions

oh, she says, we're changing

we're always changing

Remember when you were eighteen? So stubborn and bullheaded, so sure you knew what your future held, so in control. I was so captivated by you and calmed by your surety; your stubbornness thrilled me and frustrated me...

Remember rock climbing at the park and pizza on the scaffolding? Remember water towers at night and the ribbing of friends? Remember missing your One in England and lunch at Fridays?

Remember moving north, and starting again? Remember lawn games before dinner? Remember new books, new profs, new schedules to coordinate? Remember waiting to be buzzed in to the building? Remember calling Naked Guy and asking him to please put some clothes on? Remember rapelling off the look-out tower? Remember photographing the cemetary, and walking all the way home? Remember pre-bought tickets and (root) beers on the builders' swing?

Remember the realization that it wasn't a game anymore, that something bigger was beginning?

it does not bother me to say:

this isn't love

so if you don't want to talk about it then

it isn't love

and I guess I'm going to have to live with that

but I'm sure there's something in a shade of grey

or something in between

and I can always change my name

if that's what you mean

Remember loud silences and frenzied writings? Remember tearful walks in the night, muddling through miscommunications? Remember wanting so desperately to make it work? Remember knowing that something larger was at stake?

it seems like I should say:

as long as this is love....

but it's not all that easy

so maybe I should

snap her up in a butterfly net

pin her down on a photograph album

I am not worried

I've done this sort of thing before

...but then I start to think about the consequences

and I don't get no sleep in a quiet room

Remember waking exhausted, but starting another day?

Remember not giving up?

this time, when kindness falls like rain

it washes me away

and Anna begins to change my mind

and everytime she sneezes I believe it's love

and oh lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing

she's talking in her sleep

it's keeping me awake

and Anna begins to toss and turn

and every word is nonsense

but I understand it all

lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing

her kindness bangs a gong

it's moving me along

and Anna begins to fade away

it's chasing me away

she disappears and

oh lord, I'm not ready for this sort of thing

justin one:

thank you for taking a chance on us

eight years added to our cache of memories,

four olive shoots around your table

and I am crazy in love with you (I think hearts about you)

Retail Therapy

Well, Justin just left for Portland to visit his dad for a long weekend. They spend a weekend together once every summer, and take turns being the one to make the drive. This year was our year to commute. Thanks to Trey and Dana for loaning us their Volvo so that the boys and I are not totally housebound!


In preparation for his leaving, I took off last night for several hours of Retail Therapy. Reuben cried and begged to come with me. I thought to myself that he and I would probably have plenty of each other this weekend, thankyouverymuch, and I better go off on my own for a while.


Off to the thrift store, then, where I spent a blissful 2 1/2 hours. Yup, two and a half hours. I closed the place down. And no, I didn't look at everything I wanted to.


Want a sneak peek of some of my treasures?

Here's a tiny cast-iron skillet I bought for Cole to cook his eggs in every morning. We've been working with him on making his own breakfast--which is a bit of a task, since we don't do the typical bagel/muffin/cereal kind of thing in the morning. I love that this skillet is just his size.

(Karissa: here's a cast-iron I bought for YOU! ...if you still want it. I will clean it up and get it seasoned and ready for you!)

This is a stack of five matching stoneware bread-and-butter plates for the boys to use when they set their table for breakfast, snack, or lunch. I think they are BEAUTIFUL.....but they cost me $.49 a piece, so I won't be too heartbroken if one gets dropped and shatters.

And last, but not least, is a simple little navy blue ceramic pitcher so the boys can serve themselves their own tea or water. I'm still trying to decide what to do about cups. We've been using regular drinking glasses, but I like the idea of the boys having their own special cups in their dish cupboard. I'm thinking about giving them some Japanese tea cups I have stored away....

Oh, it's so much fun. All this plus an armload of new clothes for Mama, all for the bargain price of thirty dollars!