This Sunday morning

 

it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world

Mary Oliver


In awe of all that surrounds us…

Mysteries, Yes

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.

How two hands touch and the bonds will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.


It is easy to be distracted – by life and all of its busy ways. Capturing moments of awe and wonder can be difficult, as we so often hear words discouraging the need for such time. Words that insist we only look in the directions guided by others.

These demands leave a restless and hungry spirit. A spirit longing to explore without direction. Wander into places where there is no need for answers. Wander long enough to appreciate the miracle of creation in detail.

Like prayer, these moments away from the directed path of life are found with intention. It is not the amount of time given, five minutes is as good as one hour. This time is calm for the soul —

— calm much needed for balance in this world which spins faster each day.


Quote: Mary Oliver

to grow ever kinder

Maybe our world will grow kinder eventually.
Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of God
that is inside each of us.

 

 

Mary Oliver, Franz Marc’s Blue Horses

The doorway into thanks (revisited)

 

So grateful for the beauty and wisdom you shared. Rest in peace, Mary Oliver.

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.”


Quote: Mary Oliver, Thirst
Image: Bella Foxwell