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Tom Murphy

@brtom.bsky.social
751 followers 1.3K following 4.2K posts

Made in Illinois. "Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim." btocarm.substack.com brtom.org

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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 11/10/2026
Wendell Berry
WE travelers, walking to the sun, can't see 
Ahead, but looking back the very light 
That blinded us shows us the way we came,
Along which blessings now appear, risen
As if from sightlessness to sight, and we,
By blessing brightly lit, keep going toward
The blesséd light that yet to us is dark.

Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem VI, 1999.
021
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 04/10/2026
Wendell Berry
THE wind of the fall is here.
It is everywhere. It moves 
every leaf of every
tree. It is the only motion 
of the river. Green leaves 
grow weary of their color.
Now evening too is in the air, 
the bright hawks of the day 
subside. The owls waken.
Small creatures die because 
larger creatures are hungry.
How superior to this 
human confusion of greed 
and creed, blood and fire.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem V, 2001.
140
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 02/10/2026
English lyrics: I've often wondered
Why are the mountains so high?
Perhaps to gather the snow
Or shield the valley from the cold
Or maybe as a safe prop for the arch of the sky
That is why the mountains are so high
I've often wondered
Why are the seas so deep?
Perhaps for the joy of the fish
Who could hardly do without the water
Or for the greater glory of God who created the world
That is why the seas are so deep
I've often wondered
Why do the clouds move so fast?
Perhaps it is a lesson for mankind
Teaching us how imaginary a border is
Or maybe it is simply a game played by angels
That is why the clouds move so fast
I've often wondered
Why are people so tired?
Perhaps from their endless striving and chasing
Or maybe from their ten thousand questions
And they have been on the road to peace for so long
That is why people are so tired.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 01/10/2026
2267 Recourse to the death penalty on the part of legitimate authority, following a fair trial, was long considered an appropriate response to the gravity of certain crimes and an acceptable, albeit extreme, means of safeguarding the common good.
Today, however, there is an increasing awareness that the dignity of the person is not lost even after the commission of very serious crimes. In addition, a new understanding has emerged of the significance of penal sanctions imposed by the state. Lastly, more effective systems of detention have been developed, which ensure the due protection of citizens but, at the same time, do not definitively deprive the guilty of the possibility of redemption.
Consequently, the Church teaches, in the light of the Gospel, that "the death penalty is inadmissible because it is an attack on the inviolability and dignity of the person",
, and she works with
determination for its abolition worldwide.
Catechism of the Catholic Church.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 27/09/2026
Wendell Berry
THE times are disgusting enough, surely, for those who long for peace and truth. But self-disgust also is an injury: the coming of bodily uncertainty with age and wear, forgetfulness of things that ought to be remembered, remembrance of things best forgot.
Forgive this fragmentary life.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem IV, 2006.
13710
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 25/09/2026
The Right Book at the Right Time ... for Catholics of the USA.
The cover of  the book The Right Pope at the Right Time: An American Catholic Response to Pope Leo XIV by Monsignor Arthur Holquin S. T. L. retired rector, Mission Basillica San Juan Capistrano, Diocese of Orange, California.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 20/09/2026
Thirteen pages in and … wow. Excellence. Yes the title, and so much more. Some clarity for our moment.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 16/09/2026
"PROGRESS forbids us to stop when we are satisfied. We must go on, changing with the changes of technology, whatever the cost may be to ourselves and our children. But to know how much is enough, and to be satisfied with enough, makes possible an economy and a society properly suited to the world and to our place in this world. It is to be civilized. The idea of enough is alien to capitalism, which respects no limit. It is native to agrarianism."
Wendell Berry
foreword to 50th Anniversary Edition of The Unsettling of America.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 13/09/2026
Wendell Berry
THE fume and shock and uproar 
of the internal combustion of America
recede, the last vacationers gone
back to the life that drives away from home.
Bottles and wrapper of expensive 
cheap feasts ride the quieted current 
toward the Gulf of Mexico.
And now the breeze comes down
from the hill, the kingfisher returns 
to the dead limb of the sycamore, 
the swallows feed in the air
over the water.
A muskrat draws his V
under the lowhanging willows.
In clear shallows near the rocks 
tiny fish flicker and soar. A dove 
sweetens the distance with his call.
Out of the frenzy of an August Sunday 
the Sabbath comes. The valley glows.
A raincrow flies across the river 
into the shadowy leaves. The dark falls.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem IV, 1985.
020
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 07/09/2026
Going through some of my old WB-related stuff, I found this reflection from back when I was on Twitter. I don't think I shared it then, but the meanness (real and potential) of social media still bothers me.
August 30, 2019
So I find this small exchange at Twitter:
Auntie Shepherd: Dad alas did not have time to talk for long but he thought me canceling Thoreau was hilarious. And he said Robert Frost was very careful about managing his reputation, probably because Frost was "an unpleasant person. Just read a biography."
lapaysanne: A friend of mine knows Wendell Berry and his wife. An icon of Ag lit.
Says he is a cretin and misogynist. [emoji] figures.
Not sure where to begin with this. Of course it bothers me, but why?
Because it strikes at some exalted sense may wish to have of the glory of Wendell Berry? (maybe 10% of my reaction)
Because it bashes the character of a person whom the speaker has never met in real life? (50%)
Because it relies on a third-party's judgment of that person ("A friend of mine...) and thus provides a weak cover of deniability: "I'm not saying it, but a friend of mine said ..." (10%)
Because "lapaysanne" uncritically repeats a term such as "cretin" without any clear understanding of what the word actually means? (20%)
Because "who knows Wendell Berry and his wife" suggests more than a passing acquaintance by this "friend." And this suggests that some high-level, adolescent backstabbing by this "friend" is being passed on by another friend ... all with the apparent aim of character assassination. (10%)
Okay. It's easy to chuckle over "canceling Thoreau," an easy target dead these past 155 years. But it's something else when the target is a living person. I understand that this is Just So Typical of how things roll on social media, but it's also what makes me nauseous about social media. At no apparent cost to themselves, some folks seem eager to exact a great cost from others— their good names.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 06/09/2026
Wendell Berry
OVER the river in loud flood, in the wind deep and broad under the unending sky, pair by pair, the swallows again, with tender exactitude, play out their line in arcs laid on the air, as soon as made, not there.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem I, 1984.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 30/08/2026
Wendell Berry
A MAN is lying on a bed in a small room in the dark.
Weary and afraid, he prays for courage to sleep, to wake and work again; he doubts that waking when he wakes will recompense his sleep.
His prayers lean upward on the dark and fall like flares from a catastrophe.
He is a man breathing the fear of hopeless prayer, prayed in hope. He breathes the prayer of his fear that gives a light by which he sees only himself lying in the dark, a low mound asking almost nothing at all.
And then, long yet before dawn comes what he had not thought: love that causes him to stir like the dead in the grave.
being
remembered-his own love or
Heaven's, he does not know.
But now it is all around him; it comes down upon him like a summer rain falling slowly, quietly in the dark.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem VI, 1994.
020
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 26/08/2026
Norman Rockwell for Dumont TV ...
Ad for Dumont Television from Life Magazine August 5, 1950. A Rockwell painting of a father, mother, son, and daughter all smiling. Ad copy reads: The greatest joys are shared
There is great happiness in television... great happiness in the home where hearts are lifted by sharing family pleasures. And for those who would know
the fullest measure of television enjoyment, and see its stirring pageant in thrilling clarity;
Du Mont laboratories build television's finest instruments.. the Du Mont receivers.
Everything a television set can be, everything it can offer is yours in a Du Mont.
Consoles, combinations, table models.
Du Mont built the fust commercial home television receiver -
Du Mont builds the finest.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 23/08/2026
Wendell Berry
THE flocking blackbirds fly across the river, appearing above the trees on one side, disappearing beyond the trees on the other side. The flock undulates in passage beneath the opening of white sky that seems no wider than the river. It is mid August.
The year is changing. The summer's young are grown and strong in flight. Soon now it will be fall. The frost will come.
To one who has watched here many years, all of this is familiar. And yet none of it has ever happened before as it is happening now.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem VII, 2002.
130
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 16/08/2026
Wendell Berry
YES, though hope is our duty, let us live a while without it to show ourselves we can.
Let us see that, without hope, we still are well. Let hopelessness shrink us to our proper size.
Without it we are half as large as yesterday, and the world is twice as large. My small place grows immense as I walk upon it without hope.
Our springtime rue anemones as I walk among them, hoping not even to live, are beautiful as Eden, and I their kinsman am immortal in their moment.
Out of charity let us pray for the great ones of politics and war, the intellectuals, scientists, advisors, the golden industrialists, the CEOs, that they too
may wake to a day without hope that in their smallness they may know the greatness of Earth and Heaven by which they so far live, that they may see themselves in their enemies, and from their great wants fallen know the small immortal joys of beasts and birds.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem III, 2007.
030
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 12/08/2026
After the storm ...
A group of red petunias facing downward with water drops on them.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 09/08/2026
Wendell Berry
AS TIMELY as a river
God's timeless life passes
Into this world. It passes Through bodies, giving life, And past them, giving death.
The secret fish leaps up
Into the light and is
Again darkened. The sun Comes from the dark, it lights The always passing river,
Shines on the great-branched tree, And goes. Longing and dark,
We are completely filled With breath of love, in us Forever incomplete.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem III, 2000.
161
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 05/08/2026
Happy Birthday to Wendell Berry who's now 92 and has another book coming out in October.
THE QUESTION before me, now that I am old, is not how to be dead, which I know from enough practice, but how to be alive, as these worn hills still tell, and some paintings of Paul Cézanne, and this mere singing wren, who thinks he's alive forever, this instant, and may be.
Wendell Berry
Sabbaths, 2001, VI.
140
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 04/08/2026
Summer
A doubly exposed image of a massed group of black-eyed susans (rudbeckia hirta).
131
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 02/08/2026
Wendell Berry
I GO by a field where once I cultivated a few poor crops.
It is now covered with young trees, for the forest that belongs here has come back and reclaimed its own.
And I think of all the effort I have wasted and all the time,
and of how much joy I took in that failed work and how much
it taught me. For in so failing I learned something of my place, something of myself, and now I welcome back the trees.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem IX, 2007.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 28/07/2026
John Ashbery would be ninety-nine today.
This Room

The room I entered was a dream of this room.
Surely all those feet on the sofa were mine.
The oval portrait
of a dog was me at an early age.
Something shimmers, something is hushed up.

We had macaroni for lunch every day 
except Sunday, when a small quail was induced 
to be served to us. Why do I tell you these things?
You are not even here.


John Ashbery, from the collection Your Name Here (2000).
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 28/07/2026
A view of the St. Regis Tower on the south bank of the Chicago River. It is the tallest structure in the world designed by a woman: Jeanne Gang. The tallest of the three sections is almost disappearing in fog.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 26/07/2026
Remembering Titus Brandsma today ...
Photo of art by Dutch calligrapher Arie Trum: a portrait of St. Titus Brandsma that incorporates calligraphic text of Brandsma's writing and images of barbed wire.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 26/07/2026
Wendell Berry
THE Acadian flycatcher, not a spectacular bird, not a great singer, is seen only when alertly watched for. His call is hardly a song a two-syllable squeak you hear only when listened for.
His back is the color of a leaf in shadow, his belly that of a leaf in light. He is here when the leaves are here, belonging as the leaves belong, is gone when they go. His is the voice of this deep place among the tiers of summer foliage where three streams come together.
You sit and listen to the voice of the water, and then you hear the voice of the bird. He is saying to his mate, to himself, to any who may want to know: "I'm here!"
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem IV, 2002.
010
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 23/07/2026
A group of black-eyed susans (rudbeckia hirta).
141
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 20/07/2026
"Os estáis deshaciendo/ también, ¿verdad?" "You're coming undone/ too, isn't that right?"
The cover of One Moment, poems by Luis Muñoz. Translated by Idra Novey and Garth Greenwell.
110
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 19/07/2026
Wendell Berry
EARLY in the morning, walking in a garden in Vancouver
three thousand miles from your grave,
the sky dripping, song sparrows singing in the borders, I come suddenly upon a Japanese dogwood, a tree you loved, bowed down with bloom.
By what blessedness do I weep?
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem III, 1998.
030
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 18/07/2026
"The backlash is a revolt against more horizontal social forms and against a world in which everyone matters, against treating everyone with respect." Rebecca Solnit
The cover of Rebecca Solnit's book The Beginning Comes After the End: Notes on a World of Change (Haymarket Books, 2026).
020
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 16/07/2026
Carmelites everywhere today are celebrating the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel.
A ceramic relief picturing St. Simon Stock kneeling and receiving the Carmelite scapular from Our Lady of Mount Carmel leaning toward him and holding a naked Christ-child. Entitled The Vision of St. Simon Stock, this edition was created by Adam Kossowski in 1959-60 for Mt Carmel High School in Houston Texas.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 13/07/2026
Rudbeckia hirta
Commonly known as black-eyed susan, rays of yellow petals stretch out from a dark brown center.
020
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 12/07/2026
Wendell Berry
THE EWES crowd to the mangers;
Their bellies widen, sag;
Their udders tighten. Soon
The little voices cry
In morning cold. Soon now The garden must be worked, Laid off in rows, the seed Of life to come brought down
Into the dark to rest, Abide a while alone, And rise. Soon, soon again The cropland must be plowed, For the year's promise now Answers the year's desire, Its hunger and its hope.
This goes against the time
When food is bought, not grown.
O come into the market With cash, and come to rest In this economy
Where all we need is money To be well-stuffed and free
By sufferance of our Lord, The Chairman of the Board.
Because there's thus no need To plant one's ground with seed.
Under the season's sway, Against the best advice, In time of death and tears, In slow snowfall of years, Defiant and in hope, We keep an older way In light and breath to stay This household on its slope.
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem II, 1991.
120
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 08/07/2026
A view up through juneberry branches toward a maple tree, but the colors are all wrong.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 05/07/2026
Wendell Berry
GIVEN the solemn river, 
given the trees along the banks, 
given the summer warmth, 
the evening light-what 
could have foretold the sudden
apparition of these two 
speeding by as if late 
for the world's end, their engine 
shaking the air, breaking 
the water's mirrors?
The trees and the sky hush 
with dismay, and then, 
upon the return of reflection, 
with sorrow. How many years
of labor to become completely 
displaced everywhere?
Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem VIII, 1998.
030
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 04/07/2026
"I have faith in the American people--faith that we're an unruly, insubordinate bunch scattered across a vast swathe of land, from our beautifully diverse cities to our remotest rural communities, that we are not easy to subdue and control ..." Rebecca Solnit
Demonstrators sit with their feet in the Reflecting Pool during the March on Washington, August 28, 1963. The Washington Monument is in the distance. Photo by Warren K. Leffler.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 02/07/2026
Daylily days ...
A slightly double-exposed daylily.
110
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 28/06/2026
Wendell Berry
GREATLY troubled in his mind, 
he went to a place in the woods 
where not a leaf was moving
and under the trees the creek 
was flowing without a sound, 
a place as low in this world 
as the water had worn, and the quiet 
came down from highest morning 
to wait, as he knew, only to be broken, 
but the while it lasted, it would stay 
with him and comfort him
in whiles that would come after.

Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem X, 2013.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 25/06/2026
Yucca in the city ...
A yucca plant with blooming white flowers amid some red-orange daylillies in front of a tree trunk and a red brick building and black fence. A street in the distance.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 24/06/2026
This hurt my brain.
Anti-Spam Security Question:
What number comes before
12102
Send My Information.
110
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 22/06/2026
Some not-so-gold marigolds …
Two marigold blooms above a bit of wood sorrel in sepia photo tones.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 21/06/2026
Wendell Berry
THE SOUNDS of engines leave the air.
The Sunday morning silence comes 
at last. At last I know the presence 
of the world made without hands, 
the creatures that have come to be 
out of their absence. Calls
of flicker and jay fill the clear 
air. Titmice and chickadees feed 
among the green and the dying leaves.
Gratitude for the gifts of all the living 
and the unliving, gratitude which is 
the greatest gift, quietest of all, 
passes to me through the trees.

Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem XI, 2007.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 20/06/2026
This historical marker had gone missing for quite a while. Good to see it restored. Just north of 59th Street Harbor.
Plaque on a stone base in a green area reads: 

FREDERICK DOUGLASS
(1818 - 1895)

AN EX-SLAVE, WAS AN IMPORTANT AUTHOR EDITOR, ORATOR, STATESMAN AND ONE OF THE FOREMOST LEADERS OF THE ABOLITIONIST MOVEMENT IN AMERICA.

IN CELEBRATION OF HAITIAN INDEPENDENCE DAY AND COMPLETION OF THE FIRST PAVILION FOR THE WORLD'S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION, DOUGLASS DEDICATED THE HAITIAN PAVILION JACKSON PARK, JANUARY 2, 1893.

DEDICATED BY CHICAGO PUBLIC SCHOOL STUDENTS, TEACHERS AND COMMUNITY MEMBERS MAY 15, 2009
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 20/06/2026
Today
A limestone block shoreline gives onto a broad rippled lake on out to the horizon and a lightly clouded blue sky.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 18/06/2026
About as close as this ordinary person can get ... without trying too hard.
Looking north on Stony Island Avenue just past the 63rd Street intersection traffic lights toward the Obama Presidential Center in the distance. There's a police vehicle in the foreground with police and others standing on the sidewalk beneath an overcast sky
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 17/06/2026
About a hundred pages in ... it pleases me.
The cover of Jean Giono's novel Joy of Man's Desiring.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 17/06/2026
Yesterday evening.
White and gray cloud formations against a blue sky over a low horizon of buildings.
120
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 17/06/2026
Goodnight :-)
Some yellow daylilies in a sepia-toned photo that causes t hem to look white.
010
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 14/06/2026
Wendell Berry
IN a single motion the river comes and goes.
At times, living beside it, we hardly notice it
as it noses calmly along within its bounds
like the family pig. But a day comes
when it swiftens, darkens, rises, flows over
its banks, spreading its mirrors out upon
the fields of the valley floor, and then
it is like God's love or sorrow, including
at last all that had been left out.

Wendell Berry
Sabbath Poem V, 1998
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 12/06/2026
Someone forgot to acquire/build/improvise a tower for this year's clematis.
A mound of purple clematis with green leaves and flowers in bloom.
120
Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 12/06/2026
A really good one ... but maybe a challenge for hypochondriacs.
The cover of the novel Small Rain by Garth Greenwell.
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Tom Murphy @brtom.bsky.social · 12/06/2026
Irises with a Book by David Hockney centers a clear glass vase containing maybe six blue iris blooms atop long stems. The vase casts a small shadow on the white tabletop upon which also rests a copy of Gustave Flaubert's Bouvard  & Pecuchet.
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