Sometimes the newsletter hits my inbox in moments when I don't have time to read and I forget to come back, but I'm glad this wasn't one of them. I read it right away and they were the exact words I didn't even realize I needed to hear as I've been struggling with terrible writer's block myself.
Since your words felt like such a gift I wanted to share some words of poetry that were recently share with me that also felt like I received them at just the right moment. I work in food systems and happened to be talking to Wendell Berry's granddaughter. I mentioned how disheartening it was being in such an essential industry that was experiencing such cruelty from the administration, but that it felt like important and purposeful work all the same.
She mentioned the last line from the following poem as a nod to the sensation I was feeling. It was beautiful but I wasn't familiar so I looked it up after we ended the call. The short poem actually did take my breath away for a moment, as trite as that sounds. Thank you for your "real work."
Our Real Work
By Wendell Berry
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 come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
Sometimes the newsletter hits my inbox in moments when I don't have time to read and I forget to come back, but I'm glad this wasn't one of them. I read it right away and they were the exact words I didn't even realize I needed to hear as I've been struggling with terrible writer's block myself.
Since your words felt like such a gift I wanted to share some words of poetry that were recently share with me that also felt like I received them at just the right moment. I work in food systems and happened to be talking to Wendell Berry's granddaughter. I mentioned how disheartening it was being in such an essential industry that was experiencing such cruelty from the administration, but that it felt like important and purposeful work all the same.
She mentioned the last line from the following poem as a nod to the sensation I was feeling. It was beautiful but I wasn't familiar so I looked it up after we ended the call. The short poem actually did take my breath away for a moment, as trite as that sounds. Thank you for your "real work."
Our Real Work By Wendell Berry
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 come to our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.