Wendell Berry
A Person of Consequential Importance
A few months ago I offered an essay on People Of No Consequential Importance (PONCI) which includes me and many others who would like to make a difference in the world, but either we cannot find our stumps to stand on or do not have the voice that the general public will find engaging.
One of the people who does have that voice is the essayist, farmer, and poet Wendell Berry. My friend Jerry and I had an opportunity to visit with Mr. Berry one Sunday afternoon a number of years back. I had written to him after hearing about a chance meeting an acquaintance had with Mr. Berry. The person noted his approachability and willingness to discuss the world at large with strangers and so I wrote asking if a friend and I could drive down to his farm in Kentucky just to say hello and he agreed.
For decades, Wendell Berry’s work has helped me tamp down my cynicism about life, and that is a very tall order. At times his work is gentle and compelling and at other times adamant and precise in his critiques of the human species and what we are doing to our only home. His words give me solace when I feel he is speaking for me as I read about his connection to the land and to the natural world.
When Jerry and I sat down at the kitchen table in his modest farmhouse that day, I wasn’t certain what we would discover or how we might offer Wendell (he suggested we call him Wendell) some grain of knowledge or wisdom in return. I was overly concerned in part because prior to our visit he had asked me why I wanted to meet with him. That question is one that I have struggled with since the moment it was asked. I had attempted to formulate an answer in my subsequent letters to him, but they rang hollow. My justifications seemed superficial and all these years later I continue to try to put my finger on the reasoning.
The closest I’ve come to some kind of intellectual answer is that I wanted to connect with the essence of a person who I felt had knowledge that would remain elusive to me and that my visit might allow me to find a key to something within me. In the end, though, it probably had more to do with my being an enthusiastic fan wanting to meet someone who had always been larger than life. A moment of self-indulgence.
What we did learn was that this kind and generous man had insights into the world around him that allowed us to garner a greater understanding of the issues we deal with on a daily basis. Our visit was in June 2017. Donald Trump had been installed as president 5 months prior. Wendell told us of his neighbors who owned small farms and had enthusiastically supported Trump’s campaign for no other reason than they felt he was something different. That the democrats his neighbors had supported in the past had forsaken them, taking them for granted and had ceased to hear or even understand their plight. Trump was going to shake things up and listen to their issues.
This analysis is not something new. For decades we have heard about the disenfranchisement of former solidly democratic voters, yet here it was in a specific realm, told to us by a brilliant, pragmatic and sympathetic source. I would like to believe that Wendell’s neighbors have since seen the light based on the off-the-wall antics of Mr. Trump, but I also know that democrats have yet to figure out how to connect with former supporters in a way that would allow them to feel heard. Offering intellectual justification for returning to the democratic party only exacerbates the gap created by left leaning elitists in the 1980s.
But I digress. Wendell also discussed his community of fellow farmers where there is a wonderful sense of connection. He told us stories of neighbors who had needed help. And although those in need may not have asked for assistance, the residents of nearby farms would rally around those who might have fallen on hard times or had run across an extremely difficult set of circumstances. I couldn’t help but think this was the way life should be, that we could all benefit from the lessons of community involvement.
After a few hours Wendell mentioned that he and his wife, Tanya, had a social engagement that needed their attention. Tanya had been baking pumpkin pies for the gathering and the kitchen had filled with tantalizing aromas during our time, which only added to the extraordinary experience. I know that Jerry and I will always carry that afternoon with us as we might a precious stone discovered on a beach, then placed in a pocket where we can pull it out and marvel at it each time.
I will leave you today with one of Wendell Berry’s best-known poems, The Peace of Wild Things. It is one I can read over and over without ever tiring of the words. I would highly recommend purchasing one or more of his books to have nearby when you need a respite from the cacophony of noise pummeling us these days.
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.
Perhaps it is we that are just day-blind stars waiting for the night of death so others can see our light..
Oh my. You got me in the heart with this, Tobin. To think you and Jerry sat at the kitchen table of this man, this poet.
You may think you haven’t found your “stump” but you have. I have tears in my eyes feeling this encounter you have shared. And the Berry poem you concluded with was just what I needed. Thank you.
Georgia – Everything about that weekend was just about perfect.
Tobin our visit with Wendell Berry remains with me a serendipitous encounter. The three of us listening and responding mindfully, seated in a farmhouse kitchen reminiscent of that of my grandparents. The hour of so of conversation made plain to me that Berry was a humble man, and wealthy beyond any measure. His wealth was in the quality of the relationships which he jointly cultivated with others, in his mastery of language as a story teller, and as a fierce and indefatigable advocate for the land, for all that depends upon the soil.
I do not doubt that Wendell Berry is a Person Of Consequential Importance. That is also as true for you and I.
Let us all take courage.
We are of nature. There is a peace and a wildness in everyone of us.
As I just replied to Georgia, that weekend was just amazing. Our only glitch was in forgetting there was an hour lost in going from one time zone to the other.
Without doubt to err is to be human.