Poetry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

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. 

- Wendell Berry

Hannah Coulter

Last night I finished one of the books I wanted to read over the summer:  Hanna Coulter by Wendell Berry. It was one of the most endearing, books I have ever read. I wasn't sure what to expect when I first started reading it. Of course, I knew it must be good since Wendell Berry is the author, but I didn't know exactly how wonderful it would be. I'm always amazed at Wendell Berry's ability to say several profound and thought provoking things in one page!

Hannah Coulter is written from the perspective of an old woman looking back at her life. (another amazing feet by the author, you truly forget it is really written by a man.) The book is filled with sorrow and death, but it is amazing to see the characters overcome their grief. It also deals with change in family and culture. sometimes good, sometimes not.  but whatever it is, the characters wake up every morning and "live right on."  I can't help but feel I have grown wiser simply by reading it...at least, I hope so.

All I could do when I finished was sit on the couch, look at the book, and somehow wish it would keep going and never end. But, I loved the ending, so I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way. I can't say I never cried while reading this book, I certainly did. There are several parts in the book I wanted to underline, but it being a library book I didn't feel I had the liberty. (and, silly me, I didn't think to mark the page.) but, out of the whole book, this is one of my favorite quotes:
   
     "Grief is not a force and has no power to hold. You only bear it. Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery."

Reading, reading, reading

Yesterday I walked across a stage and received my high school diploma. After watching my five siblings do the same thing, I'm glad it was finally my turn! As excited as I am, I can't help feel a little lost. I have been working up to this point for, what seems, my entire life. Now that I am here, what happens? As apprehensive and excited as I am about going to college, my mind is more focused here. Summer. All I want to do is sit down on the couch with a glass of iced green tea and a book and read the long, hot days away. So, a few books I want to read(and finish since one or two I've already started) are:  

Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry

Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry

The Moviegoer by Walker Percy

The Silmarillion by Tolkien

C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy

     Okay, so maybe this isn't exactly practical. The Silmarillion alone could take nearly an entire summer. But, I can at least get a head start on some of these...

Flannery O'Connor

"The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it." -Flannery O'Connor

I love reading O'Connor's short stories and novels! They are very different from what I would normally pick up on a dreary day and start reading, but she never fails to draw me in with her style and her characters. All of her stories are harsh and deal with a central theme of dark grace. Yet, she also shows great hope and redemption through the characters. If you have never read one of her stories, read one.

I have found that it is very easy to read her stories and look down upon the characters in them that need to change. Proud, lost, cruel, snobbish, they all need dark grace to shock them into seeing truth. God's truth. I read her stories and think to myself, "well, I'm glad I'm not like that!" I see the grace she puts in her stories and I am amazed at her wonderful faith. Yet, I do not fully grasp the meaning of the story until I am able to apply it to my own life. Which, is very hard to do. That means I have to admit that I am proud, lost, cruel, snobbish, etc.

Well, today I found myself in a place where I realized I could be the main character in one of her stories...and I must say, I wasn't exactly pleased by the realization. Of course it is easy to read her stories and half heartedly think, "sure, I could be like that sometimes." But it is much more convicting when it seems to slap you in the face! It's so easy to see wrong in others when all along it is staring us in the face. I guess that is one beautiful thing about O'Connor's writing. She has the uncanny ability to point out those evils which are in every man's heart. But, she doesn't leave us there. She shows grace. Dark grace that brings us to redemption.

So, like I said, if you have never read one, do!

Some of my favorites:
Parker's Back
A Good Man is Hard to Find
Revelation
The Violent Bear it Away (a novel)

Through the Eyes of a Child

I am currently at the beach with my senior class. It has been a wonderful and relaxing time full of laughter and very little sleep. Last night, we walked down to the beach like we do every night with the purpose of taking a walk. Yet when we walked over the doon, the tide was so high we couldn't even walk on the beach!

So, instead, we sat on the the doons in the light of the full moon watching the ocean splash against the rocks. The beauty was incredible. As I gazed at the moon and the light it cast on the vast ocean, I couldn't help but feel very small. The greatness of the ocean always surprises me. I seem to forget how large it is until I sit and look out for miles and miles. Yet last night the ocean seemed even greater than normal. Perhaps it was because of the unusually hight tide due to the full moon, or perhaps it was because the sky itself seemed even greater.

I have found that as I have grown older, I feel smaller. I am slowly begining to understand how large and complex the world is and how small I appear to it. Not insignificant, just small. Last night was one of those rare moments in life where all you can do is sit and look at the beauty around you. One can't help but think in wonder and praise the God who created it. I have come to find that these moments are far too few. We have grown numb to the incredible beauty around us. In these rare moments I can't help but think of my little nephew Ransom. Everything seems new and wonderful to him. He is amazed by the colors of flowers and the tallness of trees. Every time he steps outside his eyes shine with the light of adventure and anticipation at the discoveries to be made. This is how we should be. If only we could approach the world as a child again...

My Image Does Not Fade

I see her, tirelessly working, pleasing, and creating as the image of my grandmother finds its way through my tangled, grief stricken thoughts. As winter's chill comes, the trees, now leafless, stretch down their long branches toward her. I see her struggle, as the icy fingers of death seek to take hold. She becomes weak and weathered, her bones grow tired. yet she is still working, pleasing and creating; my image does not fade.

My picture grows as I see her bring the tender light of love and beauty to all who know her. I can feel the warmth in her smile,k her laugh, and her joy. Never ceasing to love and cherish, to bless and provide, to worship and praise, I see a godly women I have always admired. I see her working, pleasing, and creating; my image does not fade.

As death comes again, its icy breath whispers in her ear and she passes from this life. Yet on that day, the sun shown clear lighting the world and casting colorful. rays across the land. Death is mocked. Where, oh death, is your victory? Where, oh death, is your sting? Though she is gone, your battle is not won. Her Father's love for her has pierced the darkness like the dawn and I fill with joy as she finds eternity. As my thoughts begin to stray and my hand begins to fade, I understand the truth: because He has conquered death, I still see her working, pleasing, and creating; my image does not fade.

A few months ago, my English teacher had my class describe a rock that he put on a desk in class. We went around the room again and again spouting out adjectives until the board was completely covered. After we were done, our homework was to write a page describing the rock...without using any of the words on the board!! After much thought, this is what I came up with...

I can remember the image well. My grandfather trudging through the snow, every few minutes stopping to rest his tired bones. Tired, a word I never would have used to describe him, yet now, inescapable. I see him struggle, while the icy fingers of death seek to reach out and grasp him. I am stunned. Once regal, he is now bent and mis-shapen. He was always mighty, facing the storms of life with a bold confidence. Yet as time has come and gone, his once solid body has become fragile as though he could fall apart with the clap of thunder, or the rush of wind.
As I watch, he gropes through the snow, the icy trees above him stretch down their long fingers. I remember him a sturdy structure, like a boulder on the craggy terrain of life. Unshakable.
Though weak and drained, he will always resemble , no matter how faint, that sturdy being I remember. I watch as he stands motionless as though listening to the inner workings of the world. The hues of his skin, changed with time, appear pale in the light of the snow.
Though much time has passed, and much of him has changed, I will always see him as a foundation, a great structure in an inconsistent world.