For the Love of Wendell
April 25, 2012 1 Comment

Wendell Berry, sui generis
Mark Bittman has a lovely article and interview with Wendell Berry, my favorite author, in the New York Times.
There isn’t a more down-to-earth, inspiring thinker alive today. He’s much more than the “spiritual founder of the food movement,” though he is certainly that. He’s the no-nonsense yet patient father of a vision of a way of living that would foster the goals many of us seek: sustainability, certainly, but also, and as important, enjoyability, neighborliness, and satisfaction. If, in your heart of hearts, you are troubled by what we might have to give up to be what we want to be, Wendell shows that there’s no need to worry. If you have not read him, you have an unassuming new inspiration awaiting you.
Bittman does us the favor of providing a link to a page of Berry quotations, from which I plucked this one, that resonates with me particularly well these days:
“There are, it seems, two muses: the Muse of Inspiration, who gives us inarticulate visions and desires, and the Muse of Realization, who returns again and again to say “It is yet more difficult than you thought.” This is the muse of form. It may be then that form serves us best when it works as an obstruction, to baffle us and deflect our intended course. It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
If you have never read poetry because it’s just so . . . hard, unclear, taken with itself, try Wendell Berry’s poetry. Here is a sample:
The Wild Rose
Sometimes, hidden from me in daily custom and in ritual
I live by you unaware, as if by the beating of my heart.
Suddenly you flare again in my sight
A wild rose at the edge of the thicket where yesterday there was only
shade
And I am blessed and choose again,
That which I chose before.
I had that one made into a calligraphy for my nephew and his bride. If you don’t get a sigh out of your long-time partner from leaving a copy of this poem on his or her nightstand, I’d be surprised.
If you are of a more revolutionary bent, here is a manifesto:
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 millennium. 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.
See what I mean? It’s almost impossible to stop quoting the man himself, because everything he writes is so much better than what can be said about him.
If I had to decide what kind of inspiration to put in a paper or on a web site to supplement or supplant, say, Biblical quotes and horoscopes, I’d have no trouble deciding: I’d have a regular feature called “A Berry A Day,” and would get a straight shot at heaven for having come up with the idea.







