I am so pleased to discover that my brain has not entirely atrophied! I am thoroughly enjoying Wendell Berry’s book, Standing by Words. Though I am not making fast progress, I don’t have to force myself to read it as I found necessary with the Apocrypha. It is still disappointing that I couldn’t find more motivation but not crushing.
I read a little bit of Wendell Berry in college but not enough to figure out his angle. It used to bother me – not being able to articulate my unease. He had a pleasant writing style and addressed topics that I cared about: a strong sense of place, a love for the land and its produce, a commitment to hard work, an appreciation for natural beauty, reverence or gratitude for life. But there was something wrong. I think I needed wikipedia for a brief introduction and outline. It is all so plain to me now! I don’t agree with his agricultural views, his politics or the practice of his faith.
Since Standing by Words is not about agriculture I haven’t encountered any disruptions. I only have the book for a few more days because it is on Interlibrary Loan, so I am skipping around in it reading what sounds most interesting just now. I may have to buy a copy because I love the way he compares poetry and marriage. I want to always have these thoughts on hand to share with others and to remind myself. I’ll try to post a few here before putting the Mole in bed.
“To have a life or a place or a poem that is formless -into which anything at all may, or may not enter – is to be condemned, at best, to bewilderment.”
“There are, it seems, two Muses: the Muse of Inspiration, who gives us inarticulate visions and desires, and the Muse of Realization, who returns again and again to say, ‘It is yet more difficult than you thought.’ This is the muse of form. The first muse is the one mainly listened to . . . “
“Properly used, a verse form, like a marriage, creates impasses, which the will and present understanding can solve only arbitrarily and superficially. These halts and difficulties do not ask for immediate remedy; we fail them by making emergencies of them. They ask, rather for patience, forbearance, inspiration-the gifts and graces of time, circumstance, and faith. They are, perhaps the true occasions of the poem: occasions for surpassing what we know or have reason to expect. They are points of growth, like axils of leaves. Writing in a set form, rightly understood is anything but force and predetermination. One puts down the first line of the pattern in trust that life and language are abundant enough to complete it. Rightly understood, a set form prescribes its restraint to the poet, not to the subject. Marriage too is an attempt to rhyme, to bring two different lives – within the one life of their troth and household-periodically into agreement or consent.”
“It may be, then, that form serves us best when it works as an obstruction to baffle us and deflect our intended course. It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work and that when we no longer know which way to go we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
“Fidelity to the form has driven us beyond expectation.”