A poem by Wendell Berry, American writer, poet, and essayist. I’ve found myself using it quite a bit lately. For enjoyment. And to invite a kind of surrender to what is through not-knowing.
The Real Work
It may be that when we no longer
know what to do
we have come to our real work.
When we no longer know
which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled
is not employed.
The impeded stream
is the one that sings.