I finished

In the cool of the evening , I finished Jayber Crow. 
I will miss him. He may be behind the 
scenes of another Berry book., for they all live in Port Williams
or nearby. 

 His life's calling made me be. 

His love made my eyes see brighter and deeper.

He made me be quiet as the evening chirps rose up to a chorus. 


The very last sentence in the story  was brillant.


Next re- read:

Using this book for me:

Reading Like a Serpent: What the Scarlet A Is About by

Marilyn Chandler McEntyre

Also we will be  reading her book: CARING FOR WORDS IN A CULTURE OF LIES

Jayber Crow: looking for a well lived life

I am almost done with Wendell Berry's favorite book: Jayber Crow.

My favorite is Hannah Coulter. BUT I want my students to read a story
about "calling." 

Steven Garber calls it a book of pilgrimage. "   with the ability to grow one's heart."

How is the vocation of a barber similar to being a pastor?
This book illustrates many, many stories of a place called Port Williams where 
many give each other a cup of cold water. Isn't that what Jesus said to do?!
How do you love your neighbor?
Breath deeply. 
Stay put. 

"On Sunday mornings I go up to ring the bell and sit through the service. I don't attend altogether for religious reasons. I feel more religious, in fact, here beside this corrupt and holy stream."

Do you see Berry's weltanschauung? 

: “If you have lived in Port William a little more than two years, you are still, by Port William standards, a stranger, liable to have your name mispronounced” 

Trust takes time.  We feel as those in Port Williams: the crushing feeling of modern life. 

There are echoes of Dante : Jayber's love for Mattie Chatham is like Beatrice and a few
lines referring to the circles of Hell made me smile. The Inferno. 

Your heart feels just like it does in Jan Karon's Mitford , although it is harder to break into Port Williams and there is agrarianism , farmers abounding.: “One was, I felt at home. There is more to this than I can explain. I just felt at home. After I got to Port William , I didn’t feel any longer that I needed to look around to see if there was someplace I would like better” 

I don't know of many books that give wisdom within a story as to how to be content 
and to examine life. Jayber's gives us his  journey of vocation and belonging. You want to have him cut your hair!



What I sent my students tonight with a map and geneology of Port Williams:

( Wendell Berry)

Students,

As you read Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry:

Remember to copy sentences or ideas that strike you for beauty, goodness and truth.

Just copy in your journal Beautiful crafted sentences.

( disregard the curse words...! It is the flavor Berry gave the book )

Jayber wrestles with the big ideas of life. THINK upon how he tests what he believes.

It took him a lifetime to live into the questions he posed to Dr. Ardmire in the beginning of the book.

( in seminary)

Think about as you read:

Did Jayber  become wiser?  What is membership?

What is community ?

Berry pronounces so much to be good  in this story  which is being crushed by modern life.

Wendell Berry’s  “weltanschauung” ( worldview) is mirrored in Jayber’s life story and introspection.

Think about what is important to living a life well lived.

This is a story about calling.

How did Jayber  Jayber find what he was called to do?

What is education? What does his vocation do for others?

This is Wendell Berry’s favorite novel.

Mine is Hannah Coulter.

Mrs. Buckingham

a fun quote:

He famously doesn’t own a computer and has written all of his books in longhand.

Wendell announces that in response to our culture of instant messaging, he has just founded a new cause, the Slow Communication Movement. Certainly we embody that spirit today, and it feels good. ( interviewer using a small notebook) It is a more leisurely, more deliberate form of communication, and it isn’t limited to 140 characters.

willingness to trudge

“All that is required of you is a willingness to trudge. 
There is no point in hurrying because you are not actually going anywhere.
 However far or long you plod, you are always in the same place: in the woods.
 It’s where you were yesterday, where you will be tomorrow. 
The woods is one boundless singularity.
 Every bend in the path presents a prospect indistinguishable from every other, every glimpse into the trees the same tangled mass.
 For all you know, your route could describe a very large, pointless circle.
 In a way, it would hardly matter.
 At times, you become almost certain that you slabbed this hillside three days ago, crossed this stream yesterday, clambered over this fallen tree at least twice today already.
 But most of the time you don’t think.” 

Bill Bryson, A Walk in the Woods*




photo from The Murmuring Cottage

To Die For by John Blase

I keep rereading this poem.

To Die For

I’m sure I don’t understand everything that was involved
but some evenings when the breeze is slight but jazzy

and the shadows are almost honest I feel I’ve a hunch
as to why God thought this world was to die for.

I’ve got nowhere near the courage God has but I’d like to
believe that if presented with the same chance to take

one for the team that I would have taken it, shame and all.
Again, this would not be due to broadly shoulders but rather

of possessing a ticker that’s a sucker for lemonade stands
manned by the pure of heart that refuse to close up shop early

because surely there’s one more righteous neighbor willing
to pay for a cup of cold sweetness before the day’s end.

and another poem

Love Poem No.18

by John Blase
by thebeautifuldue

I wasn’t looking for you when I first saw you.

What I’m saying is you surprised me. I don’t usually

 

like surprises but I liked the looks of you. Maybe that’s

why my young man plans became as dross and you

 

became every waking thought, and a few asleep too.

To think I could have missed seeing you that day

 

chills me now, for where then would my heart be?

I suppose I would have married another and had

 

other children and lived a different life, an expected

life. But it would not be the one that took me by surprise.

 

What I’m saying is when I thank God for my life

what I’m really talking about is seeing you.

New poet

The Next Day

by John  Blase
by thebeautifuldue

There are times when as a writer

you must practice forbearance.

Some evenings the pall of death

 

is so heavy halfway around the world

that you search for paper and pen

to try and make your sense of it.

 

Better to go mow the emerald grass

in diagonal rows and pull purple thistles

from the fence and startle the grey rabbit

 

beneath the shade tree and speak to your

very much alive neighbors as they walk by

while the summer wind chills the sweat inching

 

down your back and for reasons unknown

you suddenly recall the sinful smell of your

grandfather’s tobacco mingled with the

 

memory of the tears in your wife’s eyes

as the doctor placed your firstborn son in the

crook of her arm and life demanded on.

 

Monday

We turned the page of the calendar and many books over the weekend.
I went in and out of town and brought back books. New and old. 
I almost have first semester planned. Well, I am one who grabs onto ideas
right when I am doing something or about, so I have a list of books, paintings,
composition books, geography books, and rereading our summer read: 

I am halfway done with Jerram Barrs' Children's Literature course from Covenant Seminary. 
I have a few books to read for it before I move on. 

"And I remember how, as the days and the winds passed over, the foliage shifted and sang." 

 
from the Murmuring Cottage