I woke up this morning and decided on a whim to read some Wendell Berry. I wound up with an e-book of essays dedicated to him. I read the foreword and introduction--enough to remember how profoundly insightful he is but also how profoundly guilty I feel for not properly cultivating my corner of earth. I dutifully went to the farmer’s market and bought some seedlings. But I also spent a good part of the day accepting that I am very much not Wendell Berry. I decided that I need to return that book to the library and find something else to read. And then I saw your essay pop up on Substack, and yours are the words my soul needed. I don’t know how you do that! I need to be allowed to be wrong and foolish and maybe even a little bit wild. Wendell Berry’s path is not mine to follow. I am slowly learning what the native plants are of my soil, and I’m still trying to give myself permission to nurture them to grow freely. It’s a work in progress!
Laura Jean, these are the words I needed to read this morning, so thank you. The past 3 years have marked an undoing in all areas of my life, and there is much I’ve both lost and intentionally left behind. But lately I’ve found myself wondering what I want to fill the space the undoing has left in my life. The rhythms and rituals of my past no longer fit, but in their absence there’s a void. Sometimes I miss my previous devotion and perceived closeness to God. But there are little things I’ve discovered that feel true to my soul and my spirituality. And your words feel like permission to lean into those things. I especially appreciate what you said about the process of rewilding looking extremely messy, especially to those on the outside looking in. That feels true to where I’m at, and for today I’m reminding myself that that’s ok.
As usual, your metaphors delight and inspire me. You've got me thinking about what a rewilded soul looks like, and Marissa's comment has me wondering what my soul's native plants are. What are the theologies and spiritual practices that will be most suited to my soul's climate, even as it changes? What will be drought-resistant? What will sustain me in the long-term? Thank you for these beautiful images and good questions.
I love everything about this post- thank you! I needed the reminder that my little jungle was exactly what, and how, I wanted to live. And that one birdbath at a time is what God calls very good. Bless your Miss Mobley and her daughter's ability to see what you were up to.
I woke up this morning and decided on a whim to read some Wendell Berry. I wound up with an e-book of essays dedicated to him. I read the foreword and introduction--enough to remember how profoundly insightful he is but also how profoundly guilty I feel for not properly cultivating my corner of earth. I dutifully went to the farmer’s market and bought some seedlings. But I also spent a good part of the day accepting that I am very much not Wendell Berry. I decided that I need to return that book to the library and find something else to read. And then I saw your essay pop up on Substack, and yours are the words my soul needed. I don’t know how you do that! I need to be allowed to be wrong and foolish and maybe even a little bit wild. Wendell Berry’s path is not mine to follow. I am slowly learning what the native plants are of my soil, and I’m still trying to give myself permission to nurture them to grow freely. It’s a work in progress!
Laura Jean, these are the words I needed to read this morning, so thank you. The past 3 years have marked an undoing in all areas of my life, and there is much I’ve both lost and intentionally left behind. But lately I’ve found myself wondering what I want to fill the space the undoing has left in my life. The rhythms and rituals of my past no longer fit, but in their absence there’s a void. Sometimes I miss my previous devotion and perceived closeness to God. But there are little things I’ve discovered that feel true to my soul and my spirituality. And your words feel like permission to lean into those things. I especially appreciate what you said about the process of rewilding looking extremely messy, especially to those on the outside looking in. That feels true to where I’m at, and for today I’m reminding myself that that’s ok.
Beautiful words. And I can’t agree more, whether gardens or theology - the wilder the better!
As usual, your metaphors delight and inspire me. You've got me thinking about what a rewilded soul looks like, and Marissa's comment has me wondering what my soul's native plants are. What are the theologies and spiritual practices that will be most suited to my soul's climate, even as it changes? What will be drought-resistant? What will sustain me in the long-term? Thank you for these beautiful images and good questions.
I love everything about this post- thank you! I needed the reminder that my little jungle was exactly what, and how, I wanted to live. And that one birdbath at a time is what God calls very good. Bless your Miss Mobley and her daughter's ability to see what you were up to.