"Where we live and who we live there with define the terms of our relationship to the world and to humanity."
~ Wendell Berry
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Grass is greener
I've written before about feeling the need for change, to feel more connection to place and space and green. Is it simply needing a break from the city, a grass-is-always-greener complex, or is it part of natural growth and change?
Reading about Barbara Brown Taylor's experience with the earth, nature and spirit in Leaving Church helps me identify these needs and listen more closely. After leaving a large city church in Atlanta for the small town of Clarkesville in northern Georgia, Barbara and her husband search for the land and place to build their dream farmhouse.
"Some people spend years of their lives searching for the person whom they were born to love. I spent close to two searching for the land where I was meant to live. After scores of failed blind dates, I decided to marry the land that day, before I had walked ten steps past the oak — before I had found the trillium and the jewelweed, before the elderberry had produced its tiny purple clusters or the persimmon had dropped its plump fruit on the ground. I fell in love before I ever plucked a ripe muscadine from the vine or made a pie from the blackberries that grow along the path to the river. The milkweed was still in its pod that day, but even if I had seen it spilling its white silk on the air, my heart needed no more convincing. I had found my place on earth.
"...To remember that I am dirt and to dirt I shall return is to be given my life back again, if only for one present moment at a time. ... In the only wisdom I have at my disposal, the Creator does not live apart from creation but spans and suffuses it. When I take a breath, God's Holy Spirit enters me. When a cricket speaks to me, I talk back. Like everything else on earth, I am an embodied soul, who leaps to life when I recognize my kin. If this makes me a pagan, then I am a grateful one."
Car-free in L.A., I write about what I see and those I meet.
Fears: Clowns, unreasonably small dogs, unexpected mariachi music.
Motto: Regardless of Snavely family tradition, I will not be buried with my pets.
Email me: rebecca [dot] snavely [at] gmail.com