A True Grower Of Turnips
"You are the oaken staff I lean on," Taran said. "More than that." He laughed. "You are the whole sturdy tree, and a true warrior."
Coll, instead of beaming, looked wryly at him. "Do you mean to honor me?" he asked. "Then say, rather, I am a true grower of turnips and a gatherer of apples. No warrior whatever, save that I am needed thus for a while. My garden longs for me as I long for it..."
These words are taken from about half-way through Lloyd Alexander's The High King, the fifth book in his Prydain Chronicles, perhaps best remembered now by Disney's adaptation of The Black Cauldron.
Steve and I picked up this book at a thrift store for less than a dollar, not realizing what it was. Its lovely, pink cover featuring a band of companions gathered around a fire, flanked from behind by a huge cat (one of the character's mounts, you find out). Behind them, towering mountains. The fire lights up their faces, and the smoke curls around a huge sword. A classic, by-the-numbers fantasy story with good and evil, magic and sorcery I thought, and was happy to make the purchase on that thought. Instead, I have found a much more nuanced tale.
Instead of glorious battles, those compelled to fight, fight for peace and not for the joy of strong-arming and slaughtering their enemies. Each victory so far has come with loss. A loss that lingers. Page after page emphasizes the beauty of peace, the sorrow that is war, and the heavy heart that decides to take up arms to maintain peace. I have appreciated the weight given to these decisions in this writing. It seems incredibly rare.
Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. I am thankful for more than I can even think to state. I am thankful for the relative peace in which I live. I am thankful for my modest abundance. I am thankful that I no longer think of myself as a true warrior, but as a true grower of turnips. That is to say, the essence of me is not what I am willing to fight and destroy for, but the values under which I create and welcome and give. May we all be defined by what we create in peace, my fellow true weavers and writers, painters and builders, teachers, musicians, potters, bakers, true growers of turnips and gatherers of apples.
Happy Thanksgiving.