intermission

a different kind of Saturday

It’s a pleasure to have a break in pace: Loving Husband had Saturday off. He usually takes private students all day, beginning at 9am. We typically only manage a quick, functional run together before breakfast and his work day begins.

Yesterday, for various reasons, he didn’t have any morning students. So we drove out to Gardens by the Bay, one of the green spaces we often enjoy as part of our ParkTour explorations.

Although the main thoroughfares were well patronised as expected for a weekend morning, we found a number of quiet spots & paths to run along.

Green roof at the Marina Barrage.

We also found many interesting things on the ground: like these pretty frangipani (plumeria)

and burst pods of the kapok tree (Silk Floss tree)

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A blog conversation with Carol Ann Siciliano led me to dig deeper into Wendell Berry‘s career & writing this week. I was particularly captivated by his keenness towards the natural world. My favourite find this week: one of his Sabbath poems.

How long does it take to make the woods?
As long as it takes to make the world.
The woods is present as the world is, the presence
of all its past, and of all its time to come.
It is always finished, it is always being made, the act
of its making forever greater than the act of its destruction.
It is a part of eternity, for its end and beginning
belong to the end and beginning of all things,
the beginning lost in the end, the end in the beginning.

What is the way to the woods, how do you go there?
By climbing up through the six days’ field,
kept in all the body’s years, the body’s
sorrow, weariness, and joy. By passing through
the narrow gate on the far side of that field
where the pasture grass of the body’s life gives way
to the high, original standing of the trees.
By coming into the shadow, the shadow
of the grace of the strait way’s ending,
the shadow of the mercy of light.

Why must the gate be narrow?
Because you cannot pass beyond it burdened.
To come in among these trees you must leave behind
the six days’ world, all of it, all of its plans and hopes.
You must come without weapon or tool, alone,
expecting nothing, remembering nothing,
into the ease of sight, the brotherhood [and sisterhood!] of eye and leaf.

Wendell Berry's Sabbath poem "1985, V"

Stanza 1 reminds me of the opening of the Gospel of John. The reference to a narrow gate in Stanza 2 & 3 made me think of the Needle Gate referenced in the other 3 gospels. Christian poetry with an environmental bent – very nourishing.

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This post is my contribution to

• Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer
• Weekend Sky hosted by Hammad Rais