October 10, 2009
After reading Dave Eggers’ Max at Sea in the New Yorker — I had to tease myself a little with the trailer for the “Where the Wild Things Are” film. Eggers’ story, as you can read, gives Max a rather realistic backstory which some might argue is unnecessary. I would disagree — Max, in Eggers’ story, still seems very much like the boy I used to imagine I could be — if given a wolf costume, a codarie of monsters and some time out of the suburbia I grew up in.
However, in my google, not only did I find the clip of the film but I also found this lovely poem by one of my favourites – Wendell Berry –
The Peace of 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.
found on The Sunday Poem Series.
And with that, we should all go outside and play for a little while.
“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”
Meet me on Blackford Hill.