Wendell Berry, a truly wise man, died at age 92 on August 31. Let’s let him speak for himself on the topic of death right off. The following 4 part poem is from his book The Country of Marriage: Testament 1. Dear relatives and friends, when my last breath Grows large and free in air, don’t call it death — A word to enrich the undertaker and inspire His surly art of imitating life; conspire Against him. Say that my body cannot now Be improved upon; it has no fault to show To t

Wendell Berry: An Invitation Into Seeing by NanLeah 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 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

Dear Friends of Poetic Medicine, How is your summer? I hope summer is bringing uplift and flourishing green. For millions of people, however, especially in the American East, Mid-West and in Europe, summertime is bringing extreme, life-threatening heat. The fires in Canada have sent intense smoke into the northeast part of the country. That level of heat and smoke aren't anything to mess around with. Please keep yourself hydrated and as cool as you can be. Please find safe an

March 10, 1939 to March 1, 2026 “I am sure most of you would agree – my mother was unique. Some of you have shared wonderful notes and words to describe her many qualities. One that stands out to me is her determination. When she was determined to learn something, she never gave up. In the late 1960’s she wanted to learn more about meditation.” Debby McIsaac - McRock from her Eulogy on April 18, 2026 Self Realization Temple, Encinitas, CA I am writing to you in appreciation

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Dear Friend of Poetic Medicine, …whose morning-time begins, like fresh linen smoothed flat by the weathered hands of this one life That’s Where You Can Hear Good Singing These lines I am drawing out from my poem January 1 say that in some way we, that you and I, even with our weathered hands, have fresh linen to start this year with. I have quoted this from Rainer Maria Rilke many times: You must give birth to your images. They are the future waiting to be born. I want our fu