August
by: Mary Oliver
When the blackberries hang
swollen in the woods, in the brambles
nobody owns, I spend
all day among the high
branches, reaching
my ripped arms, thinking
of nothing, cramming
the black honey of summer
into my mouth; all day my body
accepts what it is. In the dark
creeks that run by there is
this thick paw of my life darting among
the black bells, the leaves; there is
this happy tongue.
It has felt like late August for almost a week now in my neck of the Upper Peninsula. Lots of 70- and 80-degree days, sun, moonlit nights, and confused geese, unsure of whether to head south or hang around for a few more days. I imagine Mary Oliver would still be eating the black honey of summer, if she were in the U. P. right now. Because summer has finally arrived for us, just after the autumn equinox.
Unfortunately, I spent most of this beautiful day inside. Didn't get to bask in the warmth and light.
You'll forgive me if this post seems short on wisdom or poetry tonight. I'm beat. I just got home from an event for Banned Books Week at the library. Yes, in the 21st century in the United States, there are still people who want to censor, remove, and ban books from libraries and schools, astounding as that sounds. For a couple hours, I sat in a room of like-minded people, listening to the words of John Steinbeck, Toni Morrison, and Chaucer, to name a few. All banned writers.
I don't understand the impulse to remove books from institutions. There is one simple solution if you are offended by a book or its subject matter: don't read it. Period. If don't want your kids to read a book, make sure to monitor what they check out from the library. Unfortunately, some people simply don't want to control just what they read; they want to control what everyone else reads, as well. And that's a big problem.
I've always believed that the way to foster peace, understanding, and compassion in the world is through knowledge. Books can be the vehicle for that knowledge. I get that it's easier to ignore people, places, and subjects that make you uncomfortable. We all go through our days in a bubble. We see the same people, do the same things, visit the same places. Stepping outside that bubble can be scary.
Yet, ignorance isn't the answer, either. Eventually, all bubbles pop. They are temporary and fragile. They aren't meant to last forever. Just like August or ripe blackberries, they disappear. Time movies on. August gives way to September and October. Summer turns into autumn and, eventually, winter. The blackberries will disappear until next August.
The best things in life are like that--they provide sun-soaked joy for a short while, sweetening the tongue. And then they vanish, leaving only memory. If you keep going back to the same blackberry patch, over and over and over, eventually there aren't going to be any berries left to pick and eat. Then, you can wait around for the blackberries to return, or you can go find an apple or plum tree. Fill your mouth with a different kind of sweetness.
So, tonight at the library, people got to taste something besides blackberries. Some bubbles were popped. And it was wonderful.
Saint Marty encourages all of his disciples to be adventurous tonight. Sit by a lake or on a beach or on top of a mountain. Count lily pads or hummingbirds. Taste what's out there. The thick paw of your life may dig up something new, sweet, miraculous.
❤️
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