Mary Oliver is one of my favourite poets. I find her poems call me to spend time, reflect quietly, and read them anew many times. I think what I consistently get out of her poetry is that we are not alone in the world.
We live together, but it is not just a human world. It is a world full of other beings, objects, and roles that shape our lives and we, in turn, shape the world. Most of the time, our relationships with the world, others, and things is unconscious. The world exists out there somewhere in taken-for-granted ways.
When we are mindfull and present, we notice the world. Mary Oliver uses the words harsh and exciting, but we are not accustomed to the novelty that continuously emerges and, when it calls, it seems harsh. As we live more fully, the world calls to us and we hear it. The harsh sounds help us remain attuned to the world.
The world excites us with its refreshing newness. We discover the extraordinary in the ordinary; what we have taken-for-granted.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting . . .
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Beautiful reminder. She has a gift that can shift us into this moment and the truth.
She does. I find her and Wendell Berry’s poetry deeply moving.
Reblogged this on The Good, Bad and Ludicrous and commented:
Thank you for the re-blog.
You betcha and no problemo, whatsoever! These things are IMPORTANT! declare I – BUT – apparently, either my local ISP, or nightly updates of software, CDNs – yours, mine and/or platforms – mean – I can’t just immediately reply and have posted my answer to your notifications – (trust me, I have gone through the ‘ringer’ of those tech support people who think I just need to know how to ‘clear my cache” AND realize those in the know would really like it if I just invested some $$ in updating my personal router, instead of waiting for local service provider to make good on their promotional copy – – fighting multiple, what I see as, battles, just now, and have been for some time – but posts such as yourse remind me, what I’m fighting for – even if I’m wrong and have to adjust my thinking – sigh – LOL
Mary Oliver is my favorite poet as well. I feel a special kinship with her words the way she looks at life.
Yes, the words connect. I find her poetry is mystical.
Yes, a favourite of mine as well. Likewise Wendell Berry: The Peace of Wild Things. Thank you for this.
You are welcome.
Thank you for opening up a poetry new to me.
You are welcome.
I love her work, too, Ivon, and this poem in particular. Perhaps I already told you that I choreographed a dance piece to this long ago? Thank you for reminding me of the beauty and combined fierceness and gentleness of these words.
You are welcome. That would be quite the dance.
This is one of my favourite poems. Wild geese really do have a beautiful, soulful cry. I am lucky enough to live near a park and hear them often early in the morning or late at night.
When I am here in Spokane, the geese congregate on the Gonzaga campus. They have already returned from their winter homes. I don’t know if that is early. In Edmonton, they had not arrived as of last week. There was ice on the ponds and rivers.
We have Canadian Geese who are all year round inhabitants of our park. Sometimes there is a rumpus in the middle of the night – not sure if it is a fox disturbing them or general geese squabbling:)
In Edmonton, they signal the change of seasons for me.