In his 1945 poem “Directive,” Robert Frost, that cantankerous bard whose spirit still haunts the hills above Middlebury, VT (and all who have the pleasure to spend time there), plots out a journey of redemption into a classic New England landscape of ruined hill farms.
“Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by loss of detail …
There is a house that is no longer a house
Upon a farm that is no more a farm,
And in a town that is no more a town.”
It is a troubling and uplifting poem, fraught with paradox, and promise. Among other directives, Frost suggests that one must: Go backwards to move forwards; Get lost to find oneself; See potential in destruction; Find answers to the most complicated questions in simplicity.
These notions sit on my mind a great deal these days. With the supposed ideals of growth and progress changing the way communities look and feel, often to the detriment of those who inhabit them, change demands a guide who, in Frost’s parlance, “Only has at heart your getting lost.”
These are the ideas, places and people that give me hope these days. May you become as wonderfully lost in them as I have.
“Here are your Waters and your watering place/ Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.”
