for James Baker Hall
It is presumptuous and irresponsible to pray for other people. A good man would pray only for himself—that he have as much good as he deserves, that he not receive more good or more evil than he deserves, that he bother nobody, that he not be bothered, that he want less. Praying thus for himself, he should prepare to live with the consequences.
At night make me one with the darkness.
In the morning make me one with the light.
If a man finds it necessary to eat garbage, he should resist the temptation to call it a delicacy.
Don’t pray for the rain to stop.
Pray for good luck fishing
when the river floods.
Don’t own so much clutter that you will be relieved to see your house catch fire.
Beware of the machinery of longevity. When a man’s life is over the decent thing is for him to die. The forest does not withhold itself from death. What it gives up it takes back.
Put your hands into the mire.
They will learn the kinship
of the shaped and the unshapen,
the living and the dead.
When I rise up
let me rise up joyful
like a bird.
When I fall
let me fall without regret
like a leaf.
Sowing the seed,
my hand is one with the earth.
Wanting the seed to grow,
my mind is one with the light.
Hoeing the crop,
my hands are one with the rain.
Having cared for the plants,
my mind is one with the air.
Hungry and trusting,
my mind is one with the earth.
Eating the fruit,
my body is one with the earth.
Let my marriage by brought to the ground.
Let my love for this woman enrich the earth.
What is its happiness but preparing its place?
What is its monument but a rich field?
By the excellence of his work the workman is a neighbor. By selling only what he would not despise to own the salesman is a neighbor.
By selling what is good his character survives his market.
Let me wake in the night
and hear it raining
and go back to sleep.
Don’t worry and fret about the crops. After you have done all you can for them, let them stand in the weather on their own.
If the crop of any one year was all, a man would have to cut his throat every time it hailed.
But the real products of any year’s work are the farmer’s mind and the cropland itself.
If he raises a good crop at the cost of belittling himself and diminishing the ground, he has gained nothing. He will have to begin over again the next spring, worse off than before.
Let him receive the season’s increment into his mind. Let him work it into the soil.
The finest growth that farmland can produce is a careful farmer.
Make the human race a better head. Make the world a better piece of ground.