Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way: A Poem
BY MARY OLIVER
If you’re John Muir you want trees to
live among. If you’re Emily, a garden
will do.
Try to find the right place for yourself.
If you can’t find it, at least dream of it.
•
When one is alone and lonely, the body
gladly lingers in the wind or the rain,
or splashes into the cold river, or
pushes through the ice-crusted snow.
Anything that touches.
•
God, or the gods, are invisible, quite
understandable. But holiness is visible,
entirely.
•
Some words will never leave God’s mouth,
no matter how hard you listen.
•
In all the works of Beethoven, you will
not find a single lie.
•
All important ideas must include the trees,
the mountains, and the rivers.
•
To understand many things you must reach out
of your own condition.
•
For how many years did I wander slowly
through the forest. What wonder and
glory I would have missed had I ever been
in a hurry!
•
Beauty can both shout and whisper, and still
it explains nothing.
•
The point is, you’re you, and that’s for keeps.
This poem is from Mary Oliver’s latest collection of poetry, Felicity, published by Penguin Press in October, 2015.
Opening reflection chosen and read by Nancy L.
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My intention today was to refocus my attention to centering myself after several very busy days. I took Mary Oliver’s advice and gave myself up to the elements of cold, wind and light. A sense of enormous gratitude came followed by a sense of calm and renewed energy.
Photos and reflection by Denise P. ________________________________________________
Anything that touches You
keeps;
holiness is visible:
limbs, dead, alive, same trunk;
glistening dew;
waves.
And why not
the shadowy bog,
hanging strands of thorns,
ruts?
Despite my preferences,
it all holds.
What moves us
from marsh grass
to open current?
Courage? Joy?
Open, arms.
Stretch wide to carry the sun!
Photo and poem by Amy W.
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This walk presented the healing of nature and the lessons from just being aware. Being in touch with were I am now, in my mind and in my body. Being in the moment of the many gifts: the sun on my shoulder that hurt, the sounds of water rushing, the wind blowing away Winter. And looking ahead, I saw the path I had walked. The peace and calm told me to slow down, be neutral. There are times to hurry, be fast. there are times to go slowly. But this was the time to be in neutral. It was a moment to heal and be grateful.
Photo and reflection by Mary W.
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Today I focused on the word I had chosen for 2016– unfolding. How can I be more open to and embrace with open arms what unfolds in 2016? How can I “hold” all that unfolds — particularly the challenges, the suffering, and the darkness in the world? How can I really be open to the mystery as it unfolds?
As I approached the beach, the ocean glistened in the strong, late winter sun. The shimmering waves made me think deeply about the amazing diversity in our world! Every drop of water, every wave, every grain of sand on the beach, every shell, every one of the billions of people on the earth — all are different in some way from each other. But, together, they make up the incredible tapestry of God’s creation. I felt that I could not be open to the “unfolding” if I did not embrace all of creation — in all its diversity — the storms, the fog, the sunny days…
As I walked away from the beach and down the utility road, the diversity of life continued to show its glory… the seed pods on the trees, the mushrooms on a dead tree trunk, and much, much more…
On one small path I encountered a flooded area — I chose not to proceed through the water today and get wet– but recognized that sometimes it is certainly necessary to make the choice to go through the water in order to grow and embrace the unfolding. At the end of my walk I found myself walking into my shadow…
Photos and reflection by Nancy L.
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