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ruthless compassion
18 February 2008 @ 12:20 am
The Slip
by Wendell Berry

The river takes the land, and leaves nothing.
Where the great slip gave way in the bank
and an acre disappeared, all human plans
dissolve. An aweful clarification occurs
where a place was. Its memory breaks
from what is known now, begins to drift.
Where cattle grazed and trees stood, emptiness
widens the air for birdflight, wind, and rain.
As before the beginning, nothing is there.
Human wrong is in the cause, human
ruin in the effect -- but no matter;
all will be lost, no matter the reason.
Nothing, having arrived, will stay.
The earth, even, is like a flower, so soon
passeth it away. And yet this nothing
is the seed of all -- the clear eye
of Heaven, where all the worlds appear.
Where the imperfect has departed, the perfect
begins its struggle to return. The good gift
begins again its descent. The maker moves
in the unmade, stirring the water until
it clouds, dark beneath the surface,
stirring and darkening the soul until pain
perceives new possibility. There is nothing
to do but learn and wait, return to work
on what remains. Seed will sprout in the scar.
Though death is in the healing, it will heal.
I'm feeling: contemplativecontemplative
ruthless compassion
Sometimes, mainstream media gives me a view into a way of thinking that just plain doesn't make sense to me. And if it's showing up in mainstream media, it gives me the sense that it's probably I who is off the norm. In this case, it's this picture of a man behind a counter with a gun on it, and the caption, "Should buying sex toys be as easy as buying guns?"


Seriously? No, really, seriously?? What the hell is wrong with people? Is this my beautiful country? Man.
I'm feeling: angryangry
ruthless compassion
18 February 2008 @ 04:06 pm
Eastern MA folks: Are you part of a CSA? If so, which one? Do you like it? Where do you do pick-ups? How long have you been a member?
I'm feeling: curiouscurious