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Showing posts from March, 2015

on repeat.

brene brown on blame

the fourth sign of the zodiac

by Mary Oliver 

1.
Why should I have been surprised?
Hunters walk the forest
without a sound.
The hunter, strapped to his rifle,
the fox on his feet of silk,
the serpent on his empire of muscles—
all move in a stillness,
hungry, careful, intent.
Just as the cancer
entered the forest of my body,
without a sound. 2.
The question is,
what will it be like
after the last day?
Will I float
into the sky
or will I fray
within the earth or a river—
remembering nothing?
How desperate I would be
if I couldn't remember
the sun rising, if I couldn't
remember trees, rivers; if I couldn't
even remember, beloved,
your beloved name. 3.
I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you're in it all the same. so why not get started immediately. I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over. And to write music or poems about. Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching. You could live a hundred years, it's ha…

snippets

"Be joyful / though you have considered all the facts." - Wendell Berry
"We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor."   - Henry David Thoreau
"I prefer the absurdity of writing poems / to the absurdity of not writing poems."  - Wislawa Szymborska

this woman is changing my life.

wild geese

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 your 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. 
- Mary Oliver 

Hear Mary Oliver read this poem here

And hear a beautiful, beautiful interview with her (from On Being) here

family vacation