Saturday, January 19, 2019

Mary Oliver, Rest in Peace

Mary Oliver died today.

I used to think of myself as a poet. And my soul is, just not my words.

I love poetry and Mary Oliver was one of my favorites. Take this, from "Daisies" for example:

It is possible, I suppose, that sometime
    we will learn everything
there is to learn--what the world is, for example
    and what it means.

Then, our daughter, Mimi, had a class with her at Bennington College and said Mary was harsh and judgmental and sometimes cruel.

So, she wasn't one of my favorites anymore.

But how can you not love this:


Today I'm flying low
and I'm not saying a word.
I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten
and so forth.

But I'm taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move, though really I am traveling
a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.

Pretty amazing.

I wish her well on her journey into the stillness and the distance.

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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.