Today, I got caught up in poetry. Specifically, Mary Oliver. How is it that I had not discovered her magic until recently?
|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.|
Poetry like this is like a Van Gogh painting – it stops me in my tracks; makes me gasp with its beauty.
Art: I am happy to be contemplating beauty and not the ugliness that man creates every day. Humans also create beauty: music, books, poetry, paintings, sculpture – and more and more.
The Mother creates beauty we cannot even emulate. Yet I intent to try. I am enthralled by the idea of reclaiming a piece of land, observing what the Mother does, learning from her, being her handmaiden – assisting her to create a place of magic for all that grows and lives in a beautiful garden.