The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
I am keeping Berry’s words close in mind as I work on Mr. Tickles’ “biography” today. Because it is a true story, I try to be so careful to get it right. It would be nice if he were still nearby to communicate with me in his reptilian ways. But I am happy he is free-styling in the lake and I will rely on memory and dig down to the cosmic core for the truth.