poem by Wendell Barry

willing to die
you give up your will
be still
until
moved by what moves all else
you move


I love this poem. I did a two-year training at Sunbridge College, back in the dark ages of the early nineties. We began each day when we were in session (we were in session intermittently throughout the year) with eurythymy. One three-week summer session, we worked with this poem, among other things, every day. So the poem became embedded in my whole being.

Everytime I think of the final clause, you move, my whole being 'moves' with the eurythymy gesture for move. Or, more precisely, the eurythymic movements for the sounds of 'm' 'o' 'v' and 'e'. We would m-oo--ve in a powerful forward thrust. We moved.

I sure wish I would move off the energy I am in these days.

Surrender. I surrender.  Find my will, eh? The will to move.