What I would like is to get on a motorcycle and drive for days. To find a mountaintop and sit in complete silence. To look out at the folded land. To wait for everything to recede until there is nothing left but the breath of the world. And then, maybe, to solve myself.
The Peace of the 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.