Love the Mary Oliver poem, Steph! Not familiar with her--will have to look into that! Thanks for a beautiful , thought provoking piece of work. Have a wonderful day!!
Oh . . . you are going to LOVE Mary Oliver! Who doesn't, really? She uses a lot of nature imagery (Wendell Berry is good for that, too). To start, however, I would highly suggest doing an internet search for her poem "The Journey" right now. Do not wait! Do it now!!! Enjoy . . .
love from the Midwest,
Happy animals always make makes me feel good, Sandra.
Steph, Just googled Mary Oliver's poem The Journey. Loved it!! Will be reading more of her work as soon as possible. Seems to be something we can all relate to. Thanks for the recommendation!
I googled "The Journey" and found a site with more of Mary Oliver's work and poems by Rumi and others. It is a small gem. It is easy to find so I won't post a link, but thanks for introducing me to MO. She is a Pulitzer Prize winner. I should have known about her already. Thanks for correcting this oversight. Love, C.
Quote of the Day:
"Most of the shadows of this life are caused by standing in one's own sunshine."
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
You are a unique expression of everything in existence, and you shine with the beauty of a million stars.
Happy fur people always make me happy, too. I'm celebrating Terry's recovery and Buddy's understanding.
Maria von Trapp has it all covered for me :) I used too watch this film every single day when I was a child ... and this song still works for me.
Happened upon the following Mary Oliver poem before meditation this morning. It reminded me of the song that we are all likely familiar with now that introduces each IE Radio show, which is certainly celebratory. The following Oliver poem is not only celebratory, but also pensive and contemplative of change in each and every moment of this precious transitory life:
"Last Days" by Mary Oliver
Things are changing, things are starting to Spin, snap, fly off into
the blue sleeve of the long afternoon. Oh and ooh
come whistling out of the perished mouth
of the grass, as things boil back
into substance and hue, As everything
forgetting its own enchantment, whispers
I too love oblivion, why not, it is full
of second chances. NOW,
hiss the bright curls of the leaves. NOW!
booms the muscle of the wind."
Namaste from the Midwest,
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