I attended sunrise service at the Church of Mother Nature this past Sunday. Between 7:10 and 7:14 a.m., I listened to what she had to say, and was reminded of what is perhaps Mary Oliver’s most beloved poem, “Wild Geese.” Gift yourself with a moment or two to take in this poem’s wisdom.
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.
There was something very familiar about the title of this post after I proofread it, so I searched past posts and came across one from just a few months ago — April 28 — entitled, “Listening to Clouds”:
https://sparkandspitfire.com/listening-to-clouds/
The verb in the title of today’s post — “listen” rather than “listening” is an invitation. The world expands beyond yourself when you spend time alone in silence outdoors in the middle of nowhere.
On Sunday morning, I also heard the first stanza of this beloved Emily Dickinson poem:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
I’ve read this poem many times, but always remember just the first stanza. The other two stanzas are worth contemplating as well.
Dearest–Your attendance at the church of Mother Nature is a beautiful calling. Your presence and photos and your recalling the poems of Oliver and Dickenson are so stunning. Thank you for sharing and for evoking deep resonance of the living connections. I recall Indra’s Net–the interconnections that we all share. As always thanks for this post. You are truly a gem in the Net. So glad we are close to share such breathtaking beauty.
Thank you, dear Charlotte. Thanks, too, for introducing me to “Indra’s net.” I had no idea what this was, so googled it.
Indra’s net is also referred to as “Indra’s Jewels” or “Indra’s pearls” — “an imperial net of celestial jewels extending in all directions infinitely, without limit. Because of the clarity of the jewels, they are all reflected in and enter into each other, ad infinitum. Within each jewel, simultaneously, is reflected the whole net.” Whoa.
A more modern and Western one (according to Wiki) describes the Net as “a metaphor for the complex interconnected networks formed by objects in a system — including social networks, the interaction of particles, and the symbols that stand for ideas in a brain or intelligent computer.”
I’d rather be gem in the Net than a computer chip. Thank you. xoxo
Beautiful reminder. Thank you for sharing.
A nice mix of imagery and words.
I would encourage everyone to view these photos on something larger than a mobile phone.
Sharon and I viewed these on my TV screen which really showed the beauty of the geese, clouds, and coloring.
Ok, if not a TV, at least a desktop.
Thank you for sharing the poetry and the waves of geese which filled your skies. They passed overhead here several weeks ago on their way south after the first real blast of winter arrived. What a treat to share their migration again with you.
This Oliver poem is shared often in class by my favorite yoga teacher. It is such a fine reminder of how to BE in this world.