“Mad Farmer” Wendell Berry, on THE BIG BANG . . .

Okay folks, it’s time to remember that our prevailing fear of scarcity is deeply embedded within a much larger world view of which most of us are not even aware. Not at all. Whoever studies cosmology? To my mind, permaculture, if it really does include everything (and it does) needs to explicitly recognize and include the cosmic perspective as well.

Please revisit this blog post which details just why I and people like Rob Messick think The Big Bang is, frankly, a crock of shit.

Southeastern Permaculture Gathering: REGENERATIVE UNIVERSE, with Rob Messick

And guess what? Wendell Berry agrees! And even references the Big Bang with The Bomb!

Here are two poems from his 2010 collection called Leavings.

Especially love this first one:

ON THE THEORY OF THE BIG BANG AS THE ORIGIN OF THE UNIVERSE

I.
What banged?

II.
Before banging
How did it get there?

III.
When it got there
Where was it?

____

And, can’t you just see the mad farmer from the back row, provoking the “scientists” who don’t know they’re mad?

WHILE ATTENDING THE ANNUAL CONVOCATION OF CAUSE THEORISTS AND BIGBANGISTS AT THE LOCAL PROVINCIAL RESEARCH UNIVERSITY, THE MAD FARMER INTERCEDES FROM THE BACK ROW

“Chance” is a poor word among
the mazes of causes and effects, the last
Stand of these all-explainers who,
Backed up to the first and final Why,
reply, “By chance, of course!” As if
that tied up ignorance with a ribbon.
In the beginning something by chance
Existed that would bang and by chance
It banged, obedient to the by-chance
Previously existing laws of existence
And banging, from which the rest proceeds
By the logic of cause and effect also
previously existing by chance? Well,
when all that happened who was there?
Did the chance that made the bang then make
The Bomb, and there was no choice, no help?
Prove to me that chance did ever
make a sycamore tree, a yellow-
Throated warbler nesting and singing
High up among the white limbs
And the golden leaf light, and a man
To love the tree, the bird, the song
His life long, and by his love to save
Them, so far, from all machines
By chance? Prove it, then, and I
By chance will kiss your ass.
_____

Okay. Let’s go further and notice that the same symbol for The Bomb, i.e., total annihilation, can be used to symbolize and evoke total creation. All we need do is change the meaning that we assign to the image.

What if: everybody on earth began to feel full of themselves, being and moving with the creative flow of the universe, addressing, expressing and amplifying this loving flow always and everywhere, each one according to his or her own beautifully unique nature that interplays synergistically with all the others? What would happen then?

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4 Responses to “Mad Farmer” Wendell Berry, on THE BIG BANG . . .

  1. Some of the greatest minds I follow all seem to concur that Mother Gaia is overpopulated and population must be brought down. If we don’t do it, nature will do it for us.

    Well maybe.

    All the gurus and all the brilliant minds seem to be deciding without complete information. ….. except the unspeakable-unmentionable kooks. I am one of those kooks perhaps as a result of encountering a huge 3000+- foot diameter UFO while a fighter pilot back in 1965. The antigravitic engine(s) that powered this craft indicates to me that everyone who has not “experienced” such an awareness, has incomplete information upon which to conclude we are over populated. Furthermore, my observation is the universe, infinity, does not align with scarcity, it aligns to abundance.

    When these power plants are eventually made public (one way or the other), they will change everything we think about scarcity, human destiny, ecological balance, our attitudes about over population…. along with our spirituality. But until then I guess I just have to settle for kook.

  2. ellen says:

    Wendel Berry is the great mind of our times. That poem is outstanding in that it lays to waste the audacity with which supposed science is an insult to our intelligence.
    Anyone who knew anything worth knowing was always deemed a madman. Anyone who ever felt anything worth feeling was deemed a madman. I would use Vincent VanGogh as an example of this.
    All admiration belongs to the madmen.

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