Messenger

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird-
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

-Mary Oliver

I really love that poem. It gives me joy, reminding me how much beauty there is in this world; it gives me conviction as I remember that my work, too, is loving, is standing still and learning to be astonished, is rejoicing, and giving thanks.

That second paragraph kept coming to my mind verbatim this week every time I was worried, or frustrated. Despite my being SO "still not half-perfect" (I LOVE that line)... I want to keep my mind on the multitude of beautiful things that matter.

(A beautiful thing:
Christina.

Her response to this post:

Christina: aww that is really nice

we are nice friends, i think.

Mmm... I think yes.)