Whatever is foreseen in Joy
Must be lived out from day to day
Vision held open in the dark
By our ten thousand days of work.
Harvest will fill the barn; for that
The hand must ache, the face must sweat.
Vision held open in the dark
By our ten thousand days of work.
Harvest will fill the barn; for that
The hand must ache, the face must sweat.
And yet no leaf or grain is filled
By work of ours; the field is tilled
And left to grace. That we may reap,
Great work is done while we’re asleep.
By work of ours; the field is tilled
And left to grace. That we may reap,
Great work is done while we’re asleep.
When we work well, a Sabbath mood
Rests on our day, and finds it good.
Rests on our day, and finds it good.
Wendell Berry, A Timbered Choir (Counterpoint: Washington, D.C., 1998), p.18.
My friend Hughes sent me another Berry poem that I love:
The Real Work
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.
~ Wendell Berry ~
(Collected Poems)
These are nourishing words as we settle into the 'ten thousand days of work.' What does a cancer fight laced with a 'sabbath mood' look like, feel like?