The Ripe Life
That which is "ripe" does not need to grow - and could teach our growth-infatuated societies a thing or two.
Some things in life are just perfect. Desperately rare they may be, but they do exist, and you will know when you stumble across one of them. When you do, you will be unable to imagine any way, shape, or form that these objects or subjects of perfection could be changed for the better; rather any additional change or growth would destroy their perfection. The state of perfection is thus a most vulnerable state: for any form of change (which, in an entropic world, may easily come) will result in corruption: the eradication of perfection. Perfect things have, therefore, reached their pinnacle of development, maturity, and beauty — their magnificent conclusion — and that is just where they need to be. No change or growth is required. Matured, perfected, complete: these are the things we should cherish, protect, and aspire to be like.
Wendell Berry in his essay Quantity Versus Form introduces the concept of ‘ripeness’, and I have come to believe it is a most fitting concept to describe those perfect things in life. Old Father Time has worked hard on these objects of desire: maturing, forming, and developing them with skill and diligence. Time has chiselled way their imperfections, accentuated their unique and particular glories, and composed each part and piece in such a way that they are well-balanced and harmonious to the beauty and perfection of the whole. Such perfection can be seen in a ripe piece of fruit. The passing of time and the intensity of sunlight and its warmth coupled with ingenuous cell biology has matured the flavours, eliminated astringency, and softened or hardened the texture to that sublime point where it is “just right”. Ripeness: we all want it, and instinctively know when we experience it.
Berry primarily uses this term to describe certain people who have attained this “formal completeness” or the “ripe life”. They have run their course, matured in their virtues, loved God and neighbour, and have accomplished what they were meant to achieve (whether that be great or little things). Their presence is a blessing to those around them and the land in which they live. Crucially, they have also begun the process of passing on this goodness to the next generation — mentoring and guiding those who will continue the good work they have begun when they themselves have become but a memory. In short, these ripe folk, like the ripe apple that is ready to be eaten, are ready to die — no matter what age they have reached1.