Mary Oliver

Does anyone else find the question at the end of Summer Day a bit stressful? “Tell me, what is it you plan to do / With your one wild and precious life?” I love that poem. But on days when the migraines have me on my back, it taunts me. What do I plan to do? What am I doing? Watching West Wing reruns and lying on ice packs, on a beautiful summer day. Not even being idle and blessed and strolling through the fields like Mary. “What else should I have done?” I feel like there are a lot of answers for me. A bike ride. A visit to a friend. A book to read. A story to write. Or something to bless others.

Ack, this post is just the same as most of my Wrestling the Tigers posts. I am wasting my time, wasting my life, sitting here under the weight of an enormous, merciless beast.

And the answer is still the same: Focus on the moment and what needs to be done. Do what you can and don’t worry about what you are not doing. Enjoy the times when you do feel well enough to go out and observe and worship and play, like this, and this, and this.

Still, it’s really hard not to feel like I am wasting my wild and precious life.

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5 comments on “Mary Oliver

  1. Franny says:

    SInce you were kind enough to like my “pee on a stick,” I had to visit you over here. I need to do some research to understand read the poem mentioned and the tiger business. I plan to do that when I have more time. But I totally am there with you about wasting my wild and precious life, yet trying to enjoy to moment and just BEING. BEING content with all the to-do’s and haven’t-done’s. I plan on visiting hear again soon. Thanks for the words of wisdom.

    Like

  2. Franny says:

    Nothing like hogging up a comment section. I just read the poem by Mary Oliver. Beautiful. Thank you again. Food for my heart and soul.

    Like

    • Thanks for reading and commenting, Franny! Isn’t that a great poem?

      Like

      • Franny says:

        It really is. I think the pastor of my church had posted it during the summer on Facebook. Strange that of all the poems in the world I would come across this again, a few months later. And lately, I do not come across poems very often. Seems I need to pay attention to it.

        Like

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