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May 20, 2010

the peace. . . .

iris.jpg
garden delight at dusk

at that moment i am unaware of anything else.
i do not hear, or see, or feel, anything but a mysterious beauty.

and like an addict, it's the one high i crave constantly.

i cannot wait to wake up and go out back to see what the garden gods have been up to.

and i get lost. for hours.
lost in every single solitary detail.
the textures,
the scents,
the sounds,
the colors,
the shapes,
the mystery...

and i never feel alone.
and i never feel afraid.
and i feel connected to my wild roots.
and i get a sense of peace that i can't seem to find anywhere else.


THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

Posted by jen on May 20, 2010 09:57 AM