by Mary Oliver
I keep this book - and other Mary Oliver collections - on my nightstand (which is a bookcase!) - so I can grab it often. How I wish I could just hand it to you. Or sit next to you and read it aloud - every page. But that won't work - and I'm pretty sure that copyright laws prohibit my copying out whole poem and prose pieces for you.
Recently I sat in a Quaker Meeting - picking up What Do We Know occasionally to guide my meditations. I could have exploded each time I finished reading one of the pieces for feelings of joy and gratitude, connection with everything.
It's the perfect book for a Quaker Meeting - Mary Oliver's work revels in the simplicity that Quakers hold dear.
I am drawn to the themes of gratitude, real joy (as opposed to the superficial happiness connected to money or things), love of nature, lessons from nature and nature's creatures, stories of connection and glory in the small things.
She shows us the macrocosm in the microcosm. Every little thing points to the bigger picture - to truth.
Mary Oliver's work touches me deeply. And when I've shared her poems - even with people who considered themselves die-hard poetry haters - there has always been a connection - a sense of wonder passed on. Some of her poems have brought tears to my eyes (of understanding - or gratitude - or that feeling of being truly seen and understood) - one caused me to guffaw!
I was reading the poems, enjoying a sense of connection and gratitude, when I came upon the prose poem "Black Snake":
"...Black snake coils himself
there neatly. He has
cousins who have teeth that
spring up and down and are full of the sap of
death,
but what of that, so have we all..."
The mention of Black snake's "full of the sap of death" cousins jumped into my mellowness so suddenly that I really did rock with laughter! Yea for truth-telling, Mary!!
In a poem called "On Losing a Home" you can hear her anger:
how to love, don't tell us
how to grieve, or what
to grieve for, or how loss
shouldn't sit down like a gray
bundle of dust in the deepest
pockets of energy, don't laugh at our belief
that money isn't
everything, don't tell us
how to behave in
anger, in longing, in loss, in home-
sickness, don't tell us,
dear friends.
"One Hundred White-sided Dolphins on a Summer Day" is one that always pulls me toward praise: (from the 3rd section of the poem)
pure, sudden, steep, sharp, painful
gratitude
that falls--
I don't know--either
unbearable
tons
or the pale, bearable hand
of salvation..."
This particular poem reminds me of an essay by Frederick Buechner (probably my favorite writer, and definitely one who I run to for inspiration and encouragement) entitled "The Great Dance", in The Longing for Home. In this essay, Buechner speaks of his tearful reaction to seeing killer whales at Sea World:
Buechner speaks of finding that his reaction is a common one. He reasons out what these feelings express:
Mary Oliver seems to give us the same exhortation: Even though it can be (it IS) awful rough sometimes in this world - we're made for JOY - keep your eyes open and you'll see! I love this message - I love that Mary Oliver never hides the truth that there ARE hard times - and also doesn't seem to forget the rock bottom grounding of JOY!
This collection of poetry and prose poetry has pieces titled with names from nature: "The Hummingbird", "Raven with Crows", "The Roses", "Clam", "Blue Iris", "Mink" - to name just some. The poems speak of nature - of it's comings and goings - activities and restings - but they also speak of US - of our seeking, of our desires, our loves and where we can find joy. While never negating the rougher experiences we all have, Mary Oliver lifts life high - helps us open our eyes to our connection to nature, to each other, to ourselves - and rolls it up in gratitude.
Even if you've never been a poetry fan, Mary Oliver's work will touch your heart - reading her poems is not an intellectual exercise - it's a surrendering - an invitation to seeing things with new eyes.