HELLO!

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

Today began at 7 am, off to a foodbank, then, the North Grove for coffee and community: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cE1W5YSfoe0 Outside North Grove is a community garden and chickens. As I stood there, I felt a peace in these wild things. It’s true, nature is everywhere, we see grass, trees, sky, water, all in the city, no matter how busy and crowded it becomes. BUT there is a difference between what I call “domesticated” or “tamed” nature and “wild things”. I recall conversations with Michael, a member of a church I once served. He was a landscaper. He would work with homeowners in Toronto to beautify their spaces. But Michael would insist the homeowner invest in the plant, trees, grass, that was indigenous to their area. He had done his homework and discovered what that area looked like before urban development. He encouraged the homeowner to enjoy nature as it was intended. Most of his clients wanted Japanese maples, Kentucky bluegrass, exotic flowers, etc…Michael liked the “wild things” that grew for generations before the city life took over. There is something “peaceful” about “wild things”, something that calms our souls.

Later, after some hospital visits and pastoral phone calls, I walked over to Morash Park, sat and watched the ducks. It was most peaceful. I grew up in the west end of Halifax, my memory of landscape included, “Dogberry trees”, slate, and pavement. My parents took me to the Atlantic Winter Fair, when it was held at the Halifax Forum. There I saw, smelled, touched, “wildlife”. I remember a teenager, the same age as me at the time, who had grown up on a farm. He had some fun with me, the city boy. He pointed to an animal, “Do you know what that is?”. He told me it was a cabbit, “we bred a rabbit and a cat”. I believed him, went home and told family and friends. These were the deficits of my upbringing.

Now I long for the peace of wild things. It restores my soul. Peace, Kevin