so, call me crazy. please.

it's such a nice thing to take a break from this ongoing and antagonizingly familiar routine of life. spring break most likely saved me. and i mean this quite literally.

lately, i've begun to just lose so much hope in humanity. i am constantly exhausted with these unanswered questions swirling around in my head that yearn to be answered. i feel like i'm trying so hard to learn. learn more about what it means to love out loud. and to live a life that is worthy
but it can be an entirely lonely feeling.

it's people like wendell berry, however, that give me hope.
hope that all is not lost.
hope that some people just understand.
hope that people are still madly in love with nature.
hope that people still have motivation.
hope that people still want to shake up the lives of their comfortable friends.
hope that people still have a clever sense of humor.
hope that people still care.
hope that people still love poetry.
and hope that people still yearn to be in the peace of the wild things.

this piece has been one that has been read over and over again for awhile now...

The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer

I am done with apologies. If contrariness is my
inheritance and destiny, so be it. If it is my mission
to go in at exits and come out at entrances, so be it.
I have planted by the stars in defiance of the experts,
and tilled somewhat by incantation and by singing,
and reaped, as I knew, by luck and Heaven's favor,
in spite of the best advice. If I have been caught
so often laughing at funerals, that was because
I knew the dead were already slipping away,
preparing for a comeback, and can I help it?
And if at weddings I have gritted and gnashed
my teeth, it was because I knew where the bridegroom
had sunk his manhood, and knew it would not
be resurrected by a piece of cake. "Dance" they told me
and I stood still, and while they stood
quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.
"Pray" they said, and I laughed, covering myself
in the earth's brightnesses, and then stole off gray
into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.
When they said "I know that my Redeemer liveth,"
I told them "He's dead." And when they told me
"God is dead," I answered "He goes fishing every day
in the Kentucky River. I see Him often."
When they asked me would I like to contribute
I said no, and when they had collected
more than they needed, I gave them as much as I had.
When they asked me to join them I wouldn't
and then went off by myself and did more
than they would have asked. "Well, then" they said
"go and organize the International Brotherhood
of Contraries," I said "Did you finish killing
everybody who was against peace?" So be it.
Going against men, I have heard at times a deep harmony
thrumming in the mixture, and when they ask me what
I say I don't know. It is not the only or the easiest
way to come to the truth. It is one way.
-Wendell Berry.


I realize that this pathetic blog is really just a redundancy of anaphoras, wendell berry, talk of nature and of my own insanity, and ranting. but for those of you that still read this.
Thanks.

post-rain lighting is the best...