Love lessons.

An undated note tucked in the back pocket of my journal. 

All that I have learned of love (and I have been a poor and difficult student), I have learned from the forest, Wendell Berry (who showed me the depth and the beauty possible in marriage), Jesus (who showed me the extremity of love), and the Buddhists (who showed me equanimity—the agape love that holds everything dear, just as it is). 

I understand that the pain that comes from stretching the soul is the pain of ripping the ego in its battle for reality. It is, however, nothing more than a construct, a falsehood that tries to contain our hearts and souls as though our love is an exhaustible resource; making us believe that there is only so much room in either when both, like the Universe that dusted our bones with bits of stars, they are infinite and one with the all-that-is—equally sacred and profane. It is only the ego and its false fears that there is something to lose that keeps us from opening as wide as all existence. 

-|KXM|-

edited & posted 01/31/2012

My sisters

Today, I will walk in the 4th Annual AmizadeWater Walk for Women’s Rights. It is my second year participating in this powerful event created by Pittsburgh-based Amizade Global Service and Learning. I have many kind and generous friends and was able to raise $638 (final) from donations that ranged between $5 and $100. In the course of fundraising, people often say nice things about me and what I do, which is kind, however, it is not what motivates me. 

There is an eons-long debate about whether charity should be done publicly, or whether we should do all of our good deeds as anonymously as possible. While I understand and deeply respect the former position for its emphasis on humility and keeping the focus on the deed and not what you will get from it (most particularly, praise), I feel strongly that public acts of goodness are important, even as the praise sometimes makes me feel a bit awkward. I know where my true motivation lies, so I do not worry about it too much.

This broken and hurting world needs more love, more kindness, more compassion, and more generosity. It is my belief that seeing others engaged in such acts encourages people to do join in. I believe that seeing someone else do something sweet and kind, no matter how small—going out of your way for a second to help someone on crutches with a door—makes people happy. Certainly not everyone, some will be too myopic to notice, but most who see it will feel some amount of joy and, it is my hope, be motivated to act on their own altruistic feelings. If we choose to focus on it, there is much negativity in this world and it makes people feel small and powerless. I want to spread the joy of the hummingbird.

There is an African parable about a forest fire. The trees are ablaze and the animals flee the forest ahead of the raging flames. They gather on the edge, staring at the destructive force tearing through their home. Finally, the littlest hummingbird cannot take it anymore and she flies to the stream, gets a beak full of water and flies to the fire and spits it on the flames. She goes back to the stream, bringing drop by little drop to the fire. The other animals see this and say, “Hummingbird! What are you doing!? You cannot put out this raging fire with the little drops of water from your beak!” And the hummingbird replies that they are right, but that is what she can do, and she will keep doing what she can do, however small, to help put out the fire. [Click here to hear African women’s rights activist, Nobel Peace Prize winner, and founder of the Green Belt movement, Professor Wangari Maathai recount this parable in the movie Dirt!]

The little hummingbird, on one hand, seems pitiful and hopeless, but she is the hope of the story—she will be part of the solution, no matter what the odds. I want to be the hummingbird. I want to be part of the solution, no matter how intractable the problem may be because the one thing guaranteed not to work is despair. I cannot feed everyone, but I can feed one. To that one person, the difference of a meal or not is probably a pretty big deal. 

So what does this have to do with the Water Walk? The walk and the small amount of money that I am able to bring to it is but a tiny act in the face of the daunting amount of suffering in the world from profound poverty, oppression, slavery, rape, war, greed, environmental destruction… So much devastation and the flames keep raging. I sit here in a warm apartment in a city that is not under siege. I brushed my teeth with clean water and was able to use a toilet inside, safely and sanitarily washing away the waste with potable water. I will open my refrigerator and take out a variety of food to make myself healthy meals for the day. Like many others in North America, indubitably, some of that food will not be eaten before it goes bad and will end up in my compost pile. I am writing this on a computer, itself its own little miracle, powered by electricity and connected to a global network of knowledge and resources, accessible in seconds with the click of a finger. 

I am a woman who has never been raped. I am a woman who has never been forced to marry. I am a woman more educated than most of the world’s population. Though my income is modest by US standards, it is thousands of times that of most of the women of the world. My safety, my security, my independence, my basic, inherent sense of self-worth and dignity are luxuries for most of my global sisters. I do not feel sorry that I have these things. Not in the least, but I am privileged to have them. I am blessed with great leisure and fortune. I do not feel guilty for the karma that brought me to this birth, but I also do not feel uniquely entitled to its gifts. The issue is not to feel bad about the gifts you have, but to figure out how you will use them. Will you use your privilege, your leisure and fortune, to serve others? Or to serve your own selfishness? The latter is enticing, but it is ultimately unsatisfying. Fed greed only becomes greedier—the craving never stilled. Like the delicious meal on which you overindulge, at the end of the night you will feel bloated, miserable, and sick. Feed love and it grows, filling you and everyone around you. 

I want every girl born on this planet to never know the pain of rape. I want every girl to be raised so that she believes that being a woman is not an impediment to any dream. I want every girl to have enough leisure and fortune that she may be able to explore who she is other than the property of a man or a water mule. I want every girl to be able to be educated and financially independent so that she may choose to be a wife, a mother, a neurosurgeon, engineer, teacher, diplomat, scholar, a farmer...whatever her heart leads her to be.

I have oft said that the only good use of power is the protection of others. Strength has nobility only when it is used to empower others, not to continue their oppression. I have been given a gift. I find joy in sharing my gifts. I have this bizarre idea that when we are all better off, we are all better off--that more happiness = more happiness. There is no real way to insulate myself from the suffering of others. You may feel that your toe is far from your heart, but fail to treat infection in the toe, and one day it will stop the heart--we are all connected, inextricably. Who would want to cut off their leg or allow themselves to die rather than treat the infection with antibiotics? Those who see the toe as separate from the heart are suffering from terrible delusion that will cause them great harm.

There are over a billion people without access to clean water. Tomorrow, there will still be over a billion people without access to clean water. We can despair that and stay home today or keep our wallets closed because “we really can’t make a difference!” Or, like the hummingbird, we keep putting drop by drop on the fire... I know it works. If it was just me, I would not have $638 to help the people of Karagwe. I would have only my own small contribution. But because I told you, because I chose to do this act publicly and entreat others to help, WE have raised $638. A bucket of water made from many small drops. Still a small amount in the grand scheme of things, but I prefer to think of the people of Karagwe who now have clean water, improved sanitation, and more time to devote to improving their lives in other ways now that they do not need to lug jugs of water for miles a day. I prefer to think that one girl from that village will get to go to school who would not have before. Who knows what she may grow to become? She may be the acorn that sprouts the new forest in the ashes of the old. 

In the words of my favorite poet, “Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.”

My heartfelt thanks to everyone who has made this possible. I am but the humble courier of your generosity, and I bow to you with hands in prayer. _/|\_ 

About Amizade’s Water Work:

Because of the generous support our grant partner, the AllPeopleBeHappy Foundation, and Water Walkers like you, last year alone we were able to achieve the following:

• Bring clean water to over 300 schoolchildren in the area of rural Karagwe,Tanzania;
• Install a massive 300,000 liter water-harvesting system, including gutters, underground piping, and a solar-powered pump for a new school in the small village of Chonyoyo, read more here;
• Complete full evaluations on the water-harvesting systems that Amizade already helped to install for 8 families that have survived gender-based human rights abuses;
• Install 5 other rain-water harvesting tanks for families in the region;
• Construct and connect a vital fruit-tree nursery to the Chonyoyo water tank that will provide local families with healthy food;
• Lead workshops on the benefits of Solar Water Disinfection (SODIS) – a method to produce suitable drinking water utilizing solar rays from the sun – to several groups of community members; 
• Hold two very successful “Water Walks”, which have had a combined total of over 600 participants, received local print and television press, and raised over $8,000 for clean-water initiatives; and
• Install ‘tip-tap’ hand washing devices (a mechanism designed to encourage hand-washing while conserving water) at recipients’ homes using simple, local materials, assembling the contraptions on-site by way of demonstrating a simple technology that families can share with their neighbors in order to increase awareness about the importance of hygiene and sanitation.

Gratitude.

I am blessed beyond sense in so many ways. Though I often trudge through my days, dragging my feet (and other body parts), there are moments in which the whole of my being is flooded with gratitude for the abundance of love and amazing people in my life.

"How will you use your leisure and fortune today?" This is written on a card that sits on my dining room table, again on my kitchen cabinet, and, in a slightly different formulation, on the mirror in my bedroom. I was asked the other day what it means, and was reminded that, what can seem so obvious to one is not clear at all to others.

If you are reading this, you are blessed by leisure and fortune. If you did not go to bed hungry for lack of food, you are blessed by leisure and fortune. If, indeed, you went to bed in a bed in a house, you are blessed by leisure and fortune. If you had a break from work today, you are blessed by leisure and fortune. If you own a TV, a radio, a phone, a car, more clothes than you need, have heat, indoor plumbing, and electricity, you are blessed with leisure and fortune.

So often, however, we take all this for granted. We don't think about the fact that the water that comes out of our faucet is a small miracle unavailable to a sixth of the world's population. We hate our jobs. We bemoan our bills. We complain about the cost of holiday presents. We complain about gas mileage, mortgage payments, and our schedules busy with engagements, meetings, errands, parties, and concerts. We pay money for the gym, and whine about having to go take our flaccid, overfed, underworked bodies to "work out."

Please understand that I'm not in anyway saying these things to stir up guilt. I don't feel guilty to have any of these things. That they are in my life is an act of grace and the result of karma. The question is not whether I should feel bad about my blessings (how ridiculous), but  how I will use them. Whether I will cherish them and employ them in the service of others, or if I will twist them into burdens to be grudgingly borne? Think about it--a billion people in the world would probably die of gratitude if they could walk from their heated, comfortable bedroom into a bathroom where they could relieve themselves in a sanitary toilet, wash their hands with soap and clean water, brush their teeth and swallow water that would not give them dysentery. Yet we drag ourselves from bed, complaining that the room isn't warm enough and that the gas bills are so high, thoughtlessly go through the motions of our morning rituals, complaining that it takes the water too long to get hot, thinking about all the rest of the crap we have to do today, dreading donning our multiple layers of clothes, shoveling our sidewalks, and getting ourselves to work.

I'm not saying that I like paying my bills or coming to work. I most certainly do not. I'm not saying that I don't have real problems and that addressing them isn't a struggle. But relative to many, many people, I am rich beyond belief. My modest American standard of living far surpasses that of billions of people. Billions. So what will I do with it? Is my life really so hard? Really?? Beyond the physical comforts I enjoy, I have had access to an education, to spiritual teachers, and to an abundance of undeserved love. I am a woman who can read, who can work, who has never backed down to a man, never been raped, never been hit, never been degraded for my sex, never been told that I could not ________ because "women can't do those things." To write those words breaks my heart because I know there are billions of women around the world for whom ignorance, domination, abuse, and humiliation are just the way of their lives. So how will I use my knowledge, my freedom, my voice?

Gratitude is the greatest antidote to feeling small, useless, angry, exhausted, put-out, deprived. Gratitude, when it floods the heart and soul, begets generosity, and it is generosity that gets us everything else. Abundance comes from a lack of attachment, so if you want to be full--give of yourself. Give it away. Unclench your fist--it can only hold but a tablespoon of water.  Hands open in praise receive the entire river in its passing. 

So how will you use your leisure and fortune today? How can you use your blessings to bless the world?

...all that has come to us

has come as the river comes,

given in passing away...

Journal Entry, 29 July 2009.

A Vision of The Country of Marriage.

I want to be an old woman shelling peas with you next to our garden, it's bounty spilling over the fence, the harvest of years of our love, patience, and attention.

I want to bring in cut flowers to sit on the table where we dine together in thanksgiving for the benevolent abundance with which we are blessed.

I want to walk hand in hand through the forest, our fingers interlocking, meeting each other in custom grooves made over the course of many years.

I want to be understood, so that saying who I am isn't a constant battle of words ever missing the mark. I want to know your thoughts before you think them, but ever be delighted by welcome surprises from your engaging intellect.

I want what I have to offer to be enough, because you understand the full import of what I give.

I do not want to live out my days a solitary stranger, never to meet you, love.

More Wendell (repost due to technical difficulties).

The Want of Peace
wendell berry
All goes back to the earth,
and so I do not desire
pride of excess or power,
but the contentments made
by men who have had little:
the fisherman's silence
receiving the river's grace,
the gardener's musing on rows.
I lack the peace of simple things.
I am never wholly in place.
I find no peace or grace.
We sell the world to buy fire,
our way lighted by burning men,
and that has bent my mind
and made me think of darkness
and wish for the dumb life of roots.

WINDOW POEMS
wendell berry
13.
Sometimes he thinks the earth
might be better without humans.
He's ashamed of that.
It worries him,
him being human, and needing
to think well of the others
in order to think well of himself.
And there are
a few he thinks well of,
a few he loves
as well as himself almost,
and he would like to say
better.  But history
is so largely unforgivable.
And now his mighty government
wants to help everybody
even if it has to kill them
to do it—like the fellow in the story
who helped his neighbor to Heaven:
"I heard the Lord calling him,
Judge, and I sent him on."
According to the government
everybody is just waiting
to be given a chance
to be like us.  He can't
go along with that.
Here is a thing, flesh of his flesh,
that he hates.  He would like
a little assurance
that no one will destroy the world
for some good cause.
Until he dies, he would like his life
to pertain to the earth.
But there is something in him
that will wait, even
while he protests,
for things to turn out as they will.
Out his window this morning
he saw nine ducks in flight,
and a hawk dive at his mate
in delight.
The day stands apart
from the calendar.  There is a will
that receives it as enough.
He is given a fragment of time
in this fragment of the world.
He likes it pretty well.

It's hardship is its possibility .

Take a walk with me.  Take a walk with me into a future place.  Sit here and drink in this vision of a world created with our own hands, not with pixie dust or fairy tales, but the old-fashioned way: plain old hard work.

Work has been maligned for far too long.  Everything in our lives today is designed to make life easier, correspondingly, our minds and bellies have become soft and lazy. There is a sharpness to both body and mind when engaged in work--real work, not the mind-numbing motions through which most of us go in the course of our daily employ.  When we really set our minds to something or push our bodies to perform, how engaged are we in what we are doing with the entirety of our being focused on the task at hand?

When when we fall into the trap of craving ease and coddling ourselves with comfy recliner chairs and big screen TVs hawking intellectual vacuity and material excess, we turn inward in a way that does not facilitate introspection, but rather narcissism.  It's all about me me me me me me me! That is no way to create or sustain a community.  People wax nostalgic about bucolic small town life where people know their neighbors, take care of their homes, and have real community, but act as though such a way of existence is no longer possible.

I live in the middle of the city and I know my neighbors. I live in a community of people who are kind and generous, who open their homes to newcomers, break bread and raise a glass.  People who work on their homes, plant flowers, and grow vegetables to sustain their families and share with neighbors.

Do you know how you get that? Work. Selflessness. You know how it starts? With you. With one person saying hello. One person smiling and dropping a note or some cookies for the new family. One person to collect e-mail addresses, put up a website, start a neighborhood association, organize a block party. One person to shovel a sidewalk that isn't theirs, offer a hand, share--time, resources, recipes.

If what we want are real and meaningful relationships with the people around us, if what we want are communities, neighborhoods, cities, and a nation served by honest people making good decisions, not just for us now, but that serve both us presently and future generations by making sustainable financial decisions, building infrastructure to meet the needs of the community over time and maintaining it so as to avoid future catastrophe, both physical and financial, then we must become willing to take a risk and believe that our good is also another's good and that her good is also ours. We must base our deliberations not on what is good and easy for me, but what is good and right for the community as a whole for the long-term. We must take responsibility for the problems we face, whether or not we created them.  We must take responsibility for educating ourselves and we must invest time, money, and energy in making things right.

So many people act as though these idyllic communities only existed in the distant past, and only because back then people clearly just had superior moral character and life was simpler and add your own excuse here... Mind you, such places probably never existed as they do in the reverie of modern nostalgists, but to the extent that they did, it was not on account of people back then just being so gosh darn better than us.  It is possible to make such a place.  If you want one, turn off your TV, open your blinds, roll up your sleeves, and get to work.

It won't be easy, but it just might be the most rewarding thing you do in your life.

A Vision (Wendell Berry)

If we will have the wisdom to survive,
to stand like slow-growing trees
on a ruined place, renewing, enriching it,
if we will make our seasons welcome here,
asking not too much of earth or heaven,
then a long time after we are dead
the lives our lives prepare will live
there, their houses strongly placed
upon the valley sides, fields and gardens
rich in the windows. The river will run
clear, as we will never know it,
and over it, birdsong like a canopy.
On the levels of the hills will be
green meadows, stock bells in noon shade.
On the steeps where greed and ignorance cut down
the old forest, an old forest will stand,
its rich leaf-fall drifting on its roots.
The veins of forgotten springs will have opened.
Families will be singing in the fields.
In their voices they will hear a music
risen out of the ground. They will take
nothing from the ground they will not return,
whatever the grief at parting. Memory,
native to this valley, will spread over it
like a grove, and memory will grow
into legend, legend into song, song
into sacrament. The abundance of this place,
the songs of its people and its birds,
will be health and wisdom and indwelling
light. This is no paradisal dream.
Its hardship is its possibility.

Questionnaire by Wendell Berry

1. How much poison are you willing
to eat for the success of the free
market and global trade? Please
name your preferred poisons.

2. For the sake of goodness, how much
evil are you willing to do?
Fill in the following blanks
with the names of your favorite
evils and acts of hatred.

3. What sacrifices are you prepared
to make for culture and civilization?
Please list the monuments, shrines,
and works of art you would
most willingly destroy.

4. In the name of patriotism and
the flag, how much of our beloved
land are you willing to desecrate?
List in the following spaces
the mountains, rivers, towns, farms
you could most readily do without.

5. State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,
the energy sources, the kinds of security,
for which you would kill a child.
Name, please, the children whom
you would be willing to kill. 

From his newest book Leavings, which I ever-so-prudently did not buy today in order to limit my distractions from Management Policies in Local Government Finance.

My Place in Pittsburgh

Our local NPR station, WDUQ has been running the following announcement on the air for some weeks now:

My Place in Pittsburgh
What's your favorite spot in the Pittsburgh region-- is there a bridge or a playground with special significance? Perhaps it's as grand as a beathtaking view or as simple as a specific park bench. Tell us where it is and why at region@wduq.org. You might become part of "My Place in Pittsburgh", a new on-air and website project debuting later this year.

I've been thinking about it since it first aired, and, though I determined my answer to the question some weeks ago, it was not until today that I responded.

Dear friends at DUQ:

My place in Pittsburgh is the restoration of the Nine Mile Run Watershed.

I am a native Pittsburgher, born at Magee Womens Hospital. The first place I went outside the walls of that hospital (so I have been told) was the playground at the corner of Forbes and S. Braddock. As a kid, I ran around in the valley, and collected fireflies in the field off of Kensington Street. Frick Park is as much home to me as the house in which I live. It is my place of solace and rejuvenation.

The restoration of the watershed ecosystem in lower Frick fills me with such profound love and joy, there are barely words for it. I am nearly embarrassed by my attempts to describe what this place means to me because it is too close to the bone--I fear my earnestness will be seen as trite sentimentality.

Like many from this region, I recognize that we've got a number of serious problems ranging from the economic to the environmental. With a dramatic loss of population in a mere generation, crumbling infrastructure, segregated neighborhoods, struggling schools, and a deflated economy--to envision yet another Pittsburgh renaissance seems to be a foolish flight of fancy. Yet still we rise--retooling what we have and encouraging new growth.

To walk in Lower Frick now and see the willows along the stream towering above your head, as you hear woodpeckers in the distance, watch hawks soaring above, and see butterflies dancing among the swaying Joe Pye Weed, you'd scarcely believe that the meadow you are admiring was once a sewage-covered playing field. As dragonflies buzz past, and frogs leap into the water, you may forget that, not long ago, this water was too polluted for anything to live in it. A small group of concerned citizens helped bring about a $7.7 million restoration project that turned a blighted, polluted space into a beautiful public space that supports both the wildlife that live there, and the spirits of the humans who visit. A small group of committed citizens continues to look after this crown jewel of the City park system, reaching out to the residents of neighboring communities to connect them to this beautiful space and teach them to become good citizens of the watershed. We needed big machines to move the boulders into place and create new banks for the streams, but now we need thousands of hands to pick up trash, recycle, install rain barrels; thousands of voices to talk to neighbors and friends and teach them how their small actions impact this big picture.

The restoration area is a metaphor for what is happening, and what can happen, for our City. Sure, we have problems. But if we roll up our sleeves, pool our efforts, and maybe call in some heavy equipment, the problems need not be insurmountable. We have problems, but Pittsburgh also has much inherent beauty and deep reserves of natural (including human) resources. If we so choose, through hard work and compassionate stewardship, we, like the watershed, can rise again. In the words of Wendell Berry--"this is no paradisal dream, its hardship is its possibility."

Kindly,

kxm
Park Place

For beautiful before and after pictures, go here under "Restoration Complete."

Do not take lightly small good deeds, believing that they can hardly help. For drops of water, one by one, in time can fill a giant pot. ~ Patrul Rinpoche

The restoration of Frick Park served many purposes, and was a very practical thing to do in many respects. On another level, however, it was a pure act of love.

Why does this little watershed matter? Why does it matter whether I kill the fly buzzing around my house and annoying me? Why does it matter if the Wildlife Center saves one small turtle, mangled by a careless person mowing the lawn?

There is a bigger answer to these questions, but the simple one is that we are all interconnected. As we wish to be safe and free from harm, let us give that to the world--it will indubitably come back to us. Maybe not in the form you expect or on your schedule, but it will come. Every kindness creates more kindness--in virtue of its being done, the world is more blessed. It is easy to be overcome by cynicism. It is easy to see all of the horrors of this world and be horrified, perhaps even to the point of turning your heart to stone.

Alternatively, we can allow each horrifying act we witness to tear our hearts open, making room to hold yet more of the world with compassion.

In the face of those who harm animals, in the face of the trauma of wars destroying countless lives, in the face of genocide, starvation, corruption, and abject poverty--we can close down, curl inward, etiolate, and die.

Or we can roll up our sleeves, and get to work moving the boulders and shoving the willow branches into the newly formed banks of the stream so that generations from now, children will never know that this place was not always paradise.

The Mad Farmer Manifesto

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
wendell berry

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.

THE MAD FARMER MANIFESTO:
THE FIRST AMENDMENT
wendell berry

…it is not too soon to provide by every
possible means that as few as possible shall be
without a little portion of oland. The small
landholders are the most precious part of a state.
Thomas Jefferson, to Reverend James Madison, October 28, 1785

1.
That is the glimmering vein
of our sanity, dividing from us
from the start: land under us
to steady us when we stood,
free men in the great communion
of the free. The vision keeps
lighting in my mind, a window
on the horizon in the dark.

2.
To be sane in a mad time
is bad for the brain, worse
for the heart. The world
is a holy vision, had we clarity
to see it—a clarity men
depend on men to make.

3.
It is ignorant money I declare
myself free from, money fat
and dreaming in its sums, driving
us into the streets of absence,
stranding the pasture trees
in the deserted language of banks.

4.
And I declare myself free
from ignorant love. You easy lovers
and forgivers of mankind, stand back!
I will love you at a distance,
and not because you deserve it.
My love must be discriminate
or fail to bear its weight.

Welcome to Rough Branch.

THE MAD FARMER, FLYING THE FLAG OF ROUGH BRANCH, SECEDES FROM THE UNION
—Wendell Berry

From the union of power money,
from the union of power and secrecy,
from the union of government and science,
from the union of government and art,
from the union of science and money,
from the union of ambition and ignorance,
from the union of genius and war,
from the union of outer space and inner vacuity,
the Mad Farmer walks quietly away.

There is only one of him, but he goes.
He returns to small country he calls home,
his own nation small enough to walk across.
He goes shadowy into the local woods,
and brightly into the local meadows and croplands.
He goes to the care of neighbors,
he goes into the care of neighbors.
He goes to the potluck supper, a dish
from each house for the hunger of every house.
He goes into the quiet of early mornings
of days when he is not going anywhere.

Calling his neighbors together into the sanctity
of their lives separate and together
in the one life of their commonwealth and home,
in their own nation small enough for a story
or song to travel across in an hour, he cries:

Come all ye conservatives and liberals
who want to conserve the good things and be free,
come away from the merchants of big answers,
whose hands are metalled with power;
from the union of anywhere and everywhere
by the purchase of everything from everybody at the lowest price
and sale of anything to anybody at the highest price;
from the union of work and debt, work and despair;
from the wage-slavery of helplessly well-employed.
From the union of self-gratification and self-annihilation,
secede into care for one another
and for the good gifts of Heaven and Earth.

Come into the life of the body, the one body
granted to you in all the history of time.
Come into the body’s economy, its daily work,
and its replenishment at meal times and at night.
Come into the body’s thanksgiving, when it knows
and acknowledges itself a living soul.
Come into the dance of the community, joined
in a circle, hand in hand, the dance of the eternal
love of women and men for one another
and neighbors and friends for one another.

Always disappearing, always returning,
calling his neighbors to return, to think again
of the care of flocks and herds, of gardens
and fields, of woodlots and forests and the uncut groves,
calling them separately and together, calling and calling,
he goes forever toward the long restful evening
and the croak of the night heron over the river and dark.