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Using up all the Leftovers. . .Look out you wrinkly beets!

Yard sale: check. First official sunburn of the year: check. Gnat stuck to the computer screen right over my typing: check. Weird.

This week will be a week of using up everything in my fridge and freezer. That stuff doesn’t last a month in an un-airconditioned vanagon, and eating it all now will save money on groceries. We still need a couple thousand to be really comfortable and know that we can get an apartment easily, right away when we arrive. But as Sufjan Stevens says in his song  Chicago: “I drove to New York, in a van, with my friend. We slept in parking lots, I don’t mind, I don’t mind. . .” OK, it’s a little different when you have kids, but I’m confident that God will take care of us, as long as we use common sense and follow His lead.

“If I was crying, in the van, with my friend, it was for freedom, from myself and from the land. . .” Not sure exactly what that means, but it seemed fitting.

And if I end up crying in my van it might be for the same reasons. Or because some important component in the engine has blown up in the middle of Nevada, or the dog got ansy and peed in the  car. Any number of exciting events might illicite tears on the road. . .

Or how about the lyrics to Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros? (BTW, what is the proper way to type a song title?! In quotes? I’m going with Italicized becasue that shit looks cool.) Handy song for the travelling family.

“Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is whenever I’m with you ”

So it’s not the deepest lyric.  But with that strange horn in the background, and the whistling and tamborine, it catches the mood. But, if we are going to have some sort of a theme on this adventure, I think we should share this manifesto, a poem by Wendell Berry, one of my absolute favorites:

Wendell Berry – Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
 

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready-made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head. 
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer. 

When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you 
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something 
that won't compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor. 
Love someone who does not deserve it. 

Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed. 

Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias. 
Say that your main crop is the forest 
that you did not plant, 
that you will not live to harvest. 

Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns. 
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees 
every thousand years. 

Listen to carrion -- put your ear 
close, and hear the faint chattering 
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful 
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men. 

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child? 
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 

Go with your love to the fields. 
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts. 

As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn't go. 

Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction. 
Practice resurrection.
 

 

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One thought on “Using up all the Leftovers. . .Look out you wrinkly beets!

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