So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute.
-Wendell Berry
Wendell Berry’s poem “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” joined my slow reading rotation a few weeks ago.
The Practice of Slow Reading
A few years ago, I heard James Finley, an author and teacher of the mystics, say, "Choose a mystic and read their text slowly, one paragraph a day, for as long as it takes, and you'll come to know the mystic."
There are several wonderful lines in the poem, such as…
Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
******
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
******
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
But this one line has been capturing my attention…
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute.
-Wendell Berry
On my daily walk along Dry Creek, it’s not unusual to find a few air-soft pellets, small, round, colorful pellets that are shot from something like a BB gun. This week, near the bridge, the ground was almost white with air-soft pellets. For the next four days on my daily walk, I gathered a handful of the pellets and carried them, as an offering, to the trash can at the other end of the trail.
Each day as I bent and gathered these tiny pellets in my open palm, Wendell Berry’s words echoed in my head.
“Every day do something that won’t compute.”
In these times of turmoil, division, uncertainty, and tangles, pausing to gather a handful of plastic pellets seems, well, pointless. Shouldn’t I be…. (fill in the blank of all the loud voices advising the actions we MUST take…)
And, Yet.
On Friday, while I was bent over, gathering tiny white, round pellets from the dirt, rocks, and decaying leaves of the trail, a woman and her dog asked what I was doing. As I explained, I watched as she suddenly saw the white pellets littering the trail. Once she saw the small, round, plastic pellets, hidden among the rocks and gravel, which she hadn’t ever noticed before, she was compelled to join me.
After a few minutes, she dumped her handful into my open palms and headed down the trail with “Thank you, and now that I’ve seen those, I’m going to pick them up too.”
We have an invisible partnership to make our trails a little cleaner and safer for the wildlife that shares the space with us.
Sometimes we need permission.
Sometimes we need to open our eyes to see.
Sometimes we need inspiration.
Sometimes we need to do something that doesn’t compute.
Picking up air-soft pellets does not compute with the world on fire, and yet — as Wendell Berry promised, it matters.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute.
-Wendell Berry
A Blessing For Doing Something That Doesn’t Compute:
What if you took a nap instead of being productive?
What if you picked a handful of leaves and twigs and displayed them in a vase?
What if you painted in a book you don’t love? (Or made black out poetry, or cut it up and made origami?)
What if you…Did one small thing each day that doesn’t compute, add up, or make logical sense?
What if you were kinder than necessary?
What if you smiled instead of rolling your eyes?
What if, instead of pushing buttons, you stirred up grace?
May we, once each day, do something that doesn’t compute, and makes our shared world just a little kinder, softer, and wiser.
Try slow reading Wendell Berry’s poem “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” this week.
Or maybe Breathe by Lynn Ungar
or maybe Holding the Light by Stuart Kestenbaum.
Choose a poem, read it over and over, slow, maybe one line at a time. Let it challenge, bless, and soothe you…and share the words that matter with someone.
“Send us now into the world in peace,
and grant us strength and courage to love and serve you
with gladness and singleness of heart.”
-Post Communion Prayer, Book of Common Prayer (page 365)
