Wendell Berry's Fear

Two weeks ago, I attended my first NBA game in several years. I absolutely love basketball, so any opportunity to go to a game is quickly seized. While my time at the Mavs game and the picture above might not be of nature, I felt that it properly conveyed what exactly Wendell Carter was talking about in his various writing pieces.

The afternoon before the nighttime basketball game, we read and analyzed Wendell Berry’s three writings as well as the unique life that he has lived. I was struck by how well Berry spoke to our consumer culture and lack of appreciation in the “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front”, particularly, the line, “Want more of everything ready-made,”. Also, hearing this man’s story of moving back to Kentucky to grow and develop his farm to be seemingly self-sufficient was fascinating. After class, I reflected upon what a world or even a small community might look like if they followed the ways of Berry. Even more so, I speculated upon a society that continued down its way of desiring instant gratification and the same self-centered philosophy that Berry began his manifesto with.

            As I walked in the arena and sat down with several of my friends to enjoy the team’s shootaround, something bothered me. I could not help but be constantly distracted by music blasting, airhorns blowing, big screens blinding and lights flashing. Everywhere you turned, there was something or somebody that would take your attention away from warmups. Yet, as I observed the stands, the fans could not enough of it. They laughed at any silly animation on the screen or raised their arms in desperation as the Mavs mascot tossed t-shirts into the crowd. These same distractions carried into the game. Music blaring as the point guard brought the ball up the court and sound effects for every made basket. The fans were far more interested in the entertainment of the screen than the beauty of the game.  

I could not help but think this is exactly what Wendell Berry was writing to in the intro of his manifesto. He fears a movement away from the beauty of nature or even a game of basketball, yet the American consumer cannot get enough the status quo. Who knows if our own greed will diminish? I can’t help but think Berry is concerned as he cares to the needs of his farm.

Nature in the City

For Thanksgiving Break, my family and I went to Memphis, TN to spend time with family friends. Originally, I was saddened to learn that I was not spending the perfect days of fall at my home in Kansas City. Because the leaves in Texas are never quite the vibrant colors of yellow, red, and orange, I look forward to returning home during Thanksgiving to drive down my neighborhood road which features a canopy of large, colorful leaves that are enjoying their last days before winter.

            Our family friends recently moved to an apartment in the city which I assumed would give Thanksgiving a different feel this year. As we arrived in Memphis, we drove by endless dilapidated stores and gas stations. It felt like the city was losing its soul, lacking life or color. It was as if I was trapped in a concrete jungle.

            We made it to our friends’ apartment, parking the car and taking the elevator to the 10^th floor. As we rang the doorbell and were greeted with hugs, my eyes were immediately drawn to the other side of the apartment. The whole side of their living room was a window that had a balcony with a stunning view.

            For the rest of the break, I found time to read and relax out on their balcony, enjoying a stunning yet not overwhelming view. The irony of this particular sight was that most apartments in a city are cherished for their view of the skyline, yet this view was directed away from the city and towards the suburbs. Any commercial development was concealed by full-grown tree after full-grown tree that was some variation of green and yellow. The ability to look down upon nature as it grows within the outskirts of the city was such a unique point of view. The various colors of trees were almost dots on a canvas that stretched for miles upon miles. Although Thanksgiving in the city is not quite the same as home, I was grateful for the opportunity to look down upon nature that thrives in places that you would never expect.

Fall's Sadness - Nature Observation

When I reminisce upon my experiences with the season of fall, I find myself jumping into beautiful golden leaves, running through a bright orange pumpkin patch, or walking around my neighborhood that has slowly changed to an array of red, orange, and yellow. The pattern here being the vibrant colors that come to mind along with the cool air.

            While I walked around campus for my nature observation, it became clear to me that this area of Texas at least at TCU experiences late fall and early winter a different way. The two photos above me brought this to my attention. First, the tree possesses an eerie feel. It has not lost any trees whatsoever; however, the leaves look like they are death’s doorstep. They have lost their light greenish tone to be replaced with a dark green that seems to be frozen over. They almost look as if they are hibernating like an animal waiting out the rest of the cold season.

            Next, I looked towards the base of the tree to take in any of the leaves that had fallen. In my experience, the leaves of fall have these bright colors that are vivid amidst the green grass. A stark juxtaposition between the two colors. The leaves here were a completely different story. They were a dark grey that covered the slowly dying grass.

            My time walking TCU’s campus and seeing how different environments experience fall was a strong reminder that there is a level of loss that fall brings about when it comes to nature. The trees prepare for the brutal winter ahead by shedding any leaves, leaving the tree at its barest form of its trunk, branches, and bark. While the traditional colors of fall might bring about a sense of awe and beautifulness, there is no hiding the loss and death the falls bring about as well.  

Sailing

As I walked around the Amon Carter Museum, I took in and analyzed the various masterpieces. Every one beautiful in its own right. With that being said, I have a tendency to struggle with art because of my inability to relate to it. Maybe it’s the scenes depicted or that I have never painted in any serious manner in my life. There are exceptions though and the painting I saw that is seen above was one of those. I found immense meaning through it because the painting immediately took me to my last day as a sailing instructor during the summer of 2017 at Camp Sea Gull.

            We had just raised the orange flag, indicating to all sailboats and powerboats to return to mooring. The weather had been beautiful. Clear skies. Clean winds. Perfect sailing weather. It happened almost immediately. Skies turned black. Winds picked up. The most dangerous weather I had ever seen develop right in front of my eyes. All within 5 minutes max.

            Within quite literally 5 minutes, a black squall had developed right over our camp. I ran into mooring to start furling any boats I could, yelling for kids to rush to shore. I remember vividly trying to furl these sailboats while I was being drilled by a combination of hail and rain. You could see lightning strike all around us. At that moment, we were soldiers though called to carry out a certain mission: get the boats tied down and more importantly account for all campers. I have a hard time explaining the feeling out on the water during such scary weather, standing in literally a lightning land mine with 50 surrounding metal sailboat masts. Adrenaline just tends to take over in an inexplicable way that only those experiencing the story can comprehend.

            When I glanced at the painting, I could not help but picture the twelve-year-old campers on those sailboats coming back into shore as quickly as they could. A literally dark wall of rain and hail coming towards them at a deceptively fast speed. The only hope is that they reach shore or can anchor down fast enough to ground them against more damage. Thankfully, my last day at camp ended with all campers and counselors safe and sound, and I like to think that the painting has a similar ending as well.