- Wendell Berry, Sex, Economy, freedom & Community
Friday, August 29, 2008
Community, Hope, and America's Future
- Wendell Berry, Sex, Economy, freedom & Community
Monday, August 18, 2008
The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible
Monday, August 11, 2008
Gardening (Irisis in Monet's garden)
Friday, August 8, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Being Awake to Beauty (Sky Above White Clouds)
I have always been fond of Georgia O'Keeffe's art. I was born in New Mexico and lived there until I was about 12. There are many people who would say that the New Mexico landscape is barren and ugly. There are many who say the same about the Texas landscape. What constitutes beauty in nature then? Is it merely a preference? or opinion?
It seems to me that what most people call beautiful are areas that have little to no economic benefit. The 'barren' places of earth are the ones that are condemned and drilled in or slashed and burned. I am realizing that if I cannot find beauty in large expanses of seeming emptiness I am merely a tourist, not a nature lover. Its difficult to make new discoveries when passing through in your car or taking pictures at the condo. In my journey to be awake to my surroundings and God's beautiful and good creation I am taking Wendell Berry's advice:
If you want to see where you are, you will have to get out of your spaceship, out of your car, off your horse, and walk over the ground. On foot you will find that the earth is still satisfyingly large and full of beguiling nooks and crannies
A New Discovery
A Blessing
by James Wright
Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.