Staying Home, with New Eyes

--Stay Home--

I will wait here in the fields
to see how well the rain
brings on the grass.
In the labor of the fields
longer than a man’s life
I am at home.  Don’t come with me.
You stay home too.

I will be standing in the woods
where the old trees
move only with the wind
and then with gravity.
In the stillness of the trees
I am at home.  Don’t come with me.
You stay home too.
(Wendell Berry, Collected Poems 1957-1982, p. 199)

I suppose one could hear him to be anti-social.  "Stay home" isn't, on the surface, an invitational sounding enjoinder.   It rather has the hospitable ring of "keep away from me."  A slower reading, however, allows a richer, more respectful intent to rise from the poem.  


We are surrounded by envy; animated by an appetite for what someone else already has.  Perhaps it is a possession; perhaps a position; perhaps a point in life -- a stage; an age perhaps older or younger.  
"If I had his connections..."  
"If I only had her looks..."
"If I were ten years younger I would..."
"If I could retire now I would..."
"If only our church were located in the suburbs..."
"If only I lived in the country..."


The French have this word -- this concept -- that has captivated me of late.  Terroir speaks of the taste imparted by the specificity of place.  It argues on behalf of the uniqueness of each locale.  A certain hillside may be better suited than another to grow grapes -- indeed, one particular variety of grapes -- but that only makes it better than that other hillside or valley  or plain if one's only desire is to grow that particular variety of grape.  A true "terroirist" doesn't concern himself with what can be grown "over there," but rather with what can be grown right here.  Where he is.  


The Benedictines have elevated the concept to the sacred.  In taking a vow of "Stability," they call attention to the conviction that "God is not elsewhere." 


That, I think, is the wisdom given voice in Berry's poem.  You don't need to come wherever I am -- nor do I need to follow you -- in order to experience wonder and beauty and delight. Invest the patient attentiveness necessary to discover such graces in the place you already are.


Years ago singer Don Henley of The Eagles recorded a song whose chorus was a kind of prayer:
"To want what I have
To take what I'm given with grace
These things I pray..."


To want what I have.  And where I am.  And the taste unique to it.  And to stay home and appreciate the fertility of it.

These things I pray.