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	<title>Farmer Nancy</title>
	<updated>2012-05-28T09:47:43Z</updated>
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	<entry>
		<title>Valentine's day poetry project</title>
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		<author>
			<name>Farmer Nancy</name>
		</author>
		<updated>2012-02-14T23:14:31Z</updated>
		<published>2012-02-14T23:14:31Z</published>
		<content type="html">&lt;p class="poemTitle"&gt;I am not good at long term planning. I spent most of my adult life just doing...when something wasn't working in my life I figured out how to change it and then I did just that. I was good at change. Move across the country? Leave a job? Without a plan, a place to live, a clear goal? Sure, I'll do that. Again and again, in fact.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poemTitle"&gt;Now I have something specific that I want, a bit of land, a home of my own, some seeds, some animals, a way to meet my needs as directly as possible. And it's hard to wait for it. We're saving money, Brenden is going to school, we're living in a place and in a way that is uncomfortable with the understanding that we're working towards a time when we can make something better for ourselves. This is what people do. But for me, it's torture. I'm not good at waiting.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poemTitle"&gt;Here are a few poems that have gotten me through when I don't know if I can take even one more moment. Happy Valentine's day!&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poemTitle"&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/85472-74728/nancyweeds.jpg?a=59" style="border: 0px solid;" height="544" width="493"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="poemTitle"&gt;&lt;font style="font-size: 24px;" face="Courier New"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The 
              Peace of Wild Things&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
            &lt;p&gt;&lt;font style="font-size: 14px;" face="Courier New"&gt;When despair for the world grows in me&lt;br&gt;
              and I wake in the night at the least sound&lt;br&gt;
              in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,&lt;br&gt;
              I go and lie down where the wood drake&lt;br&gt;
              rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.&lt;br&gt;
              I come into the peace of wild things &lt;br&gt;
              who do not tax their lives with forethought&lt;br&gt;
              of grief. I come into the presence of still water.&lt;br&gt;
              And I feel above me the day-blind stars&lt;br&gt;
              waiting with their light. For a time&lt;br&gt;
              I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/font&gt;
            &lt;/p&gt;
            &lt;p&gt;&lt;font style="font-size: 14px;" face="Courier New"&gt;— Wendell Berry &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;font face="Courier New"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;font style="font-size: 22px;"&gt;The Mad Farmer Liberation Front&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br&gt;by Wendell Berry&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font style="font-size: 12px;" face="Courier New"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;font style="font-size: 14px;" face="Courier New"&gt;&lt;p&gt;Love the quick profit, the annual raise,&lt;br&gt;
  vacation with pay. Want more&lt;br&gt;
  of everything ready-made. Be afraid&lt;br&gt;
  to know your neighbors and to die.&lt;br&gt;
  And you will have a window in your head.&lt;br&gt;
  Not even your future will be a mystery&lt;br&gt;
  any more. Your mind will be punched in a card&lt;br&gt;
  and shut away in a little drawer.&lt;br&gt;
  When they want you to buy something&lt;br&gt;
  they will call you. When they want you&lt;br&gt;
  to die for profit they will let you know.&lt;/p&gt;
  &lt;p&gt;So, friends, every day do something&lt;br&gt;
  that won't compute. Love the Lord.&lt;br&gt;
  Love the world. Work for nothing.&lt;br&gt;
  Take all that you have and be poor.&lt;br&gt;
  Love someone who does not deserve it.&lt;br&gt;
  Denounce the government and embrace&lt;br&gt;
  the flag. Hope to live in that free&lt;br&gt;
  republic for which it stands.&lt;br&gt;
  Give your approval to all you cannot&lt;br&gt;
  understand. Praise ignorance, for what man&lt;br&gt;
  has not encountered he has not destroyed.&lt;/p&gt;
  &lt;p&gt;Ask the questions that have no answers.&lt;br&gt;
  Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.&lt;br&gt;
  Say that your main crop is the forest&lt;br&gt;
  that you did not plant,&lt;br&gt;
  that you will not live to harvest.&lt;br&gt;
  Say that the leaves are harvested&lt;br&gt;
  when they have rotted into the mold.&lt;br&gt;
  Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.&lt;/p&gt;
  &lt;p&gt;Put your faith in the two inches of humus&lt;br&gt;
  that will build under the trees&lt;br&gt;
  every thousand years.&lt;br&gt;
  Listen to carrion - put your ear&lt;br&gt;
  close, and hear the faint chattering&lt;br&gt;
  of the songs that are to come.&lt;br&gt;
  Expect the end of the world. Laugh.&lt;br&gt;
  Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful&lt;br&gt;
  though you have considered all the facts.&lt;br&gt;
  So long as women do not go cheap&lt;br&gt;
  for power, please women more than men.&lt;br&gt;
  Ask yourself: Will this satisfy&lt;br&gt;
  a woman satisfied to bear a child?&lt;br&gt;
  Will this disturb the sleep&lt;br&gt;
  of a woman near to giving birth?&lt;/p&gt;
  &lt;p&gt;Go with your love to the fields.&lt;br&gt;
  Lie down in the shade. Rest your head&lt;br&gt;
  in her lap. Swear allegiance&lt;br&gt;
  to what is nighest your thoughts.&lt;br&gt;
  As soon as the generals and the politicos&lt;br&gt;
  can predict the motions of your mind,&lt;br&gt;
  lose it. Leave it as a sign&lt;br&gt;
  to mark the false trail, the way&lt;br&gt;
  you didn't go. Be like the fox&lt;br&gt;
  who makes more tracks than necessary,&lt;br&gt;
  some in the wrong direction.&lt;br&gt;
  Practice resurrection.&lt;/p&gt;

&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front"&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;from&lt;/i&gt; The
Country of Marriage, &lt;i&gt;copyright © 1973 by Wendell Berry, reprinted
by permission of Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/font&gt;</content>
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