{"id":6825,"date":"2020-08-14T07:56:40","date_gmt":"2020-08-14T14:56:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/?p=6825"},"modified":"2020-08-14T07:56:40","modified_gmt":"2020-08-14T14:56:40","slug":"wendell-berry-sabbaths-1999-vii-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/2020\/08\/14\/wendell-berry-sabbaths-1999-vii-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Wendell Berry – Sabbaths 1999, VII"},"content":{"rendered":"

Sabbaths 1999, VII
\nby Wendell Berry<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

Again I resume the long
\nlesson: how small a thing
\ncan be pleasing, how little
\nin this hard world it takes
\nto satisfy the mind
\nand bring it to its rest.<\/p>\n

With the ongoing havoc
\nthe woods this morning is
\nalmost unnaturally still.
\nThrough stalled air, unshadowed
\nlight, a few leaves fall
\nof their own weight.<\/p>\n

The sky
\nis gray. It begins in mist
\nalmost at the ground
\nand rises forever. The trees
\nrise in silence almost
\nnatural, but not quite,
\nalmost eternal, but
\nnot quite.<\/p>\n

What more did I
\nthink I wanted? Here is
\nwhat has always been.
\nHere is what will always
\nbe. Even in me,
\nthe Maker of all this
\nreturns in rest, even
\nto the slightest of His works,
\na yellow leaf slowly
\nfalling, and is pleased.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a> \u2014 from Given: Poems<\/a>, by Wendell Berry<\/font><\/p>\n


\/ Image by Mark Grant-Jones<\/a> \/<\/em><\/font><\/p>\n

It\u2019s been a while since we\u2019ve had a poem by Wendell Berry. And, yes, maybe this poem is for a misty autumn morning, but it suits today just as well\u2026<\/p>\n

Again I resume the long
\nlesson: how small a thing
\ncan be pleasing\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n

That\u2019s the \u201clong lesson,\u201d the slow realization of a lifetime lived with attention: the deep satisfaction of simple moments. Grand experiences may serve as important punctuation marks to life, but it is only when we deeply engage with the gentle flow of small events that we come to know our lives. Remember, real magic is hidden; it is hidden in those quiet moments.<\/p>\n

how little
\nin this hard world it takes
\nto satisfy the mind
\nand bring it to its rest.<\/i><\/p>\n

And nature is our constant teacher and guide, again and again bringing us back to ourselves.<\/p>\n

With the ongoing havoc
\nthe woods this morning is
\nalmost unnaturally still.<\/i><\/p>\n

When we walk well among the woods, with the quiet attention that comes only when self is left behind, we glide through the eternal moment.<\/p>\n

What more did I
\nthink I wanted? Here is
\nwhat has always been.
\nHere is what will always
\nbe.<\/i><\/p>\n

And we just might come to recognize the Source of \u201call this\u201d \u2014 right here, within this moment, within our own breast.<\/p>\n

Even in me,
\nthe Maker of all this
\nreturns in rest\u2026<\/p>\n

Berry\u2019s title tells us this poem is about the Sabbath. He understands the real meaning of the Sabbath. It is not the one day out of seven when one goes to church or synagogue. Sabbath is the living moment of sacred rest. It isn\u2019t a question of how often we sit within a steepled hall. Until the mind quiets and comes to rest in the heart, we have not yet honored the Sabbath.<\/p>\n

The image of the falling leaf, the reference to the day of rest, this also gently suggests something of death to us. The poet is walking through the woods in autumn and contemplating the how things end, how our own lives play out and come to a close, and there is a quiet contentment. We might find a fullness in that moment of awareness when we simply allow ourselves to be at rest in the natural rhythm of things. Death is not a horror or a source of dread but, in its right time, a strangely sweet yielding, a sabbath.<\/p>\n

Whichever day of the week you read this, have a beautiful day of rest and contemplation!<\/p>\n


\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a>Recommended Books: Wendell Berry<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n\n

<\/p>\n

\n\n\n
<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
The Collected Poems of Wendell Berry, 1957-1982<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nGiven: Poems<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nSelected Poems of Wendell Berry<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nA Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nThe Mad Farmer Poems<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
More Books >><\/a><\/i><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

<\/center>
\n<\/p>\n\n\n
\n\"Wendell<\/a>\n<\/td>\n\nWendell Berry<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

US (1934 \u2013 )
\nSecular or Eclectic<\/a><\/a>
\n<\/a><\/a><\/em>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

More poetry by Wendell Berry<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sabbaths 1999, VII by Wendell Berry Again I resume the long lesson: how small a thing can be pleasing, how little in this hard world it takes to satisfy the mind and bring it to its rest. With the ongoing havoc the woods this morning is almost unnaturally still. Through stalled air, unshadowed light, a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[893,1545,869,668,700,312,1877],"class_list":["post-6825","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-heart","tag-quiet","tag-rest","tag-sabbath","tag-silence","tag-wendell-berry","tag-woods"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6825","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6825"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6825\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6826,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6825\/revisions\/6826"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6825"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6825"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6825"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}