Minilogue - November 2006
The Peace of Wild Things
By the Rev. Bruce Johnso
The recently increased international tension provoked by North Korea’s nuclear weapons test strangely reminded me of a newspaper article I had clipped a few years ago, and consigned to a manila folder in my file cabinets. I dug around in the archives, and sure enough, there it was, filed under “Wilderness”:
“Despite the loss of habitat worldwide caused by encroaching development, one narrow strip of land has been virtually untouched by human beings for 45 years. As a result, the 2.5-by-150 mile demilitarized zone between North Korea and South Korea has become a sanctuary for rare birds, animals, and plants. A new organization called the DMZ Forum has been formed to protect the wildlife in the event relations between the two countries improve and the DMZ is eliminated. One of the group’s founders, K.C. Kim of the Pennsylvania State University Center for Biodiversity Research, described the zone as a “natural laboratory for research and training...”(from the Bloomington Independent, September, 1999).
I’ve decided to interpret the story in a positive, hopeful light, as a symbol of the indomitable and creative power of life, and of the possibilities for peace which can blossom in the “demilitarized zones” of the world. Right under the noses of a tense and fearful military standoff, the resilient and tender forms of life survive and multiply, forming some kind of fragile sacred space between enemies. I choose to see this story as a sign of wild hope, a quiet affirmation of life despite the power of hate and the forces of domination which seem so often to prevail in today’s headlines.
Perhaps Thoreau was right when he wrote, “in wildness is the preservation of the world.” Perhaps Nature can indeed teach us, heal us, restore us to sanity, in a way that no other teacher can. Certainly we need the deepest wisdom we can find, the wisdom embedded in a more-than-human world. Resolution of international conflicts will always require skilled diplomacy and sophisticated political strategy, but it may be that underneath all of the complicated maneuvers, there is a simple and natural basis for harmony.
At times, I am awakened in the middle of the night by a disturbing dream, and can not seem to get back to sleep. I toss and turn, stubbornly trying to will myself into a state of slumber, but the more I try to “relax,” the worse it gets. All the troubles of the world, large and small, seem to swirl in my consciousness, clamoring for attention. Eventually, I switch to the light beside my bed, and spend some time with one of my favorite books, a little volume called Prayers At 3 A.M.: Poems, Songs, Chants, And Prayers For The Middle Of The Night, edited by Phil Cousineau (Harper, 1995). There, I find myself returning again and again to the poem by Wendell Berry, titled, “The Peace of Wild Things.”
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 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 confess that there are times that I have gotten dressed, stepped out into the night air, and taken a quiet, starlit walk along the river’s edge. At other times, the poetry itself is enough, and I am able to switch off the light and sleep, finding refreshment and peace.
In the midst of turbulent and troubling times, may we all know the peace of wild things, and the presence of still waters. From this place of quiet courage, we may begin to act with wisdom and compassion in the waking world.