A Life Well-Lived: Wendell Berry
It is so hard to wrap my heart around the loss of Dolly Parton and now Wendell Berry…in the same week. They were not only cultural icons but reminders that excellence in creative endeavors and goodness and generosity of spirit does exist in the world and makes a difference.
But Wendell Berry…such a gentle giant. A man who knew what place can mean and how much it holds…all the ache and the joy and the mess. Many years ago, an English professor from my small group said my life reminded him of a Wendell Berry poem. I had never heard of Wendell, so he sent me a couple of his poems and I wept. I felt like Wendell saw me and understood and instantly felt I had found a home in him and in his writing. I began my Wendell Berry journey with Hannah Coulter, then Jayber Crow and more of his Port William stories. He reminded me of my “normalness,” my holiness in just being alive, and that my love of the earth was something to honor. I returned to him over and over when I needed a friend and/or solace.
While writing my first book, Old Bess, a good friend pointed out that the story was about my life and the struggle to be born and grow. So, I asked, and Wendell gave me permission to print his poem, The Peace of Wild Things, in my book in order to flesh out the complexity and grit of the birthing process and finding some comfort in it all.
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.
I wrote him a letter telling him how much his faithfulness to his craft had meant to me; how his words grounded me, gave me a sense of place, comforted my soul, made me a better person, and inspired me. To my delight and surprise, he wrote back. I will cherish that letter and his place in my life and on earth.
Wendell Berry’s books and poems have been my friends. They will always exist in the world, but in his passing, I feel I have lost a good soul companion. My dream of visiting him in Kentucky and sitting on his front porch has died, so I will have to settle for sitting with his books on my own front porch. You are welcome to join me.
Thank you, WB, for being you, for writing, for loving the earth and the people on it, for giving us your heart, and reminding us what it means to be human.
For a time, you rested in the grace of the world and lived your life well. Now rest in the grace of heaven, dear friend.