The Messenger
Mary Oliver
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. T
he sheep in the pasture,
and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing,
since all 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.
In our digital
age, this epoch in which we glorify multi-tasking and busy-ness, where
sensory-mental stimulation seems to ooze from omnipresent electronic gadgetry,
I am ever questing for silence, solitude, solace from the torrent of hyprmessaging
and hyperactivity. Like H.D. Thoreau and Mary Oliver after him, I go to my
version of the woods to
recover my senses. Each morning, I situate myself on the bank of Richardson Bay on a bench fortuitously positioned between two healthy sheltering oak trees. I try to hold my perch for 20 minutes, opening myself to whatever traffic comes and goes in my immediate environment, allowing my senses to keep their inventory. Here are a few lessons that I'm learning:
1.
We’re all flowing to and from the
same Source. Gaze
at any open body of natural water for just a few moments and it’s impossible
not to feel the stirring of the fluids within your own skin. After all, we’re
just a couple hundred gallons of water, blood, and other flowing substances
enclosed within a human skin. Taking time to sit beside a tidal bay each day reminds
me that we all flow from and to the same divine source, that the same molecules
that unite to form the bay also join together within me to give me form and
substance. Can I allow this knowledge to help me draw from a deeper well of
wisdom, understanding, desire for connection, soul quenching, and healing?
2.
You may look or feel drab or
small, but – WOW – can you sing a beautiful song! The small brown birds –
nuthatches, chickadees, oak titmouses - that inhabit the oak tree beside my sit
spot delight me with their chorus. Their appearance is deceptive. Fist-sized
and cardboard-colored, they appear rather generic when held beside the pure
white great egret or the stately blue heron. But one full-throated lungful of
song advises me that beauty lies within.
3.
Stop, sit still, survey the scene,
and take a rest from time to time. Hummingbirds provide a bird species metaphor to our modern
day lives: flitting from one enticing
treat or activity to the next, hovering a wee while, and then moving on to the
next greatest thing. But observe the hummingbird a while longer. See how she
pauses, stock still, balanced gingerly on a bare branch. Looking. Resting.
Allowing the fruits of her activity to be integrated within. Readying herself
for another period of activity. Then, from this place of profound stillness,
she takes flight.
4.
Even something as mundane,
unremarkable, or uninspiring as a playing field can serve an essential purpose
and hold abundant nourishment. Vibrant emerald green turf holds a special place in the
hearts of my neighborhood’s gulls and geese. They spread themselves by the
dozens over the soft surface, drawing into themselves for shelter from the elements
or carefully plying the turf for nourishing morsels. The mundane surface of the
playing field becomes a communion of beings, a source of safety and respite, a
cafeteria. The gulls and geese ask me, “What comfort and nourishment can you
find in the ordinary, the everyday, the collective?”
5.
It’s not necessarily how high you
go, but how you get there. The flight of the turkey vulture
provides eloquent commentary on artful journeying. Launching from bare earth or
jagged edge of hill, its wings spread impressively and – oh! – catch an updraft
and propel its oversized body a bit higher. From a meaningful vantage point, the
hulking yet graceful form turns in wide gyres as if blessing all beneath. Eagle
or vulture? Only the studied eye can discern, as the gorgeous spirals of flight
mask all perceived ugliness. Make your journey artful.
6.
Circling a destination or a course
of action a few (or many!) times before your settle on it can be a useful,
prudent practice. I
watch innumerable gulls convene in seeming disarray and chaos in the steam
rising from the wastewater treatment plant. A moment unfolds in which they
place themselves head to tail with their kin until the whole twisted knot of
gray-white feathers has become a gently revolving circle that mirrors the shape
of the holding tank beneath. For dozens of seconds they rotate, with each
rotation a few more birds setting off in their own directions or, dropping to
cement surface, settling to rest, just so. There’s a certain wisdom in going ‘round
and ‘round a few times before landing at your decision or destination.
7.
Let the sun find you and catch
your colors, dry out your feathers. The shiny ebony cormorant’s telltale gesture for drying
its wings serves as a sort of sun salute. Chest lifts, wingtips thrust skyward,
head gently inclines, arches backward in a graceful curve. Heart exposed to
sun, wings full spread, wind gently caressing the full surface of its body. Ah,
how important to routinely allow nature to soothe and heal the cold, soggy
parts of yourself that could potentially bog you down.
8.
Be utterly, irrepressibly you. Yesterday morning, I searched and
searched with my ears and eyes ‘til I found the source of the happiest, most
sincere and exuberant upwelling of song. They came to rest on a tiny bird
feathered in shades of brown, beak turned to the heavens, belting out its own original
aria. He seemed to counsel me, “Hey – all you can do is be utterly, irrepressibly
you!” So get on with it. Sing your
song!”
9.
Be resourceful and also patient;
work diligently, but also wait and watch. Every type of feathered creature has shown me the
significance of resourcefulness: from
berry harvesting to collecting puffs of fur and wads of thread for nest lining,
they’re wise users of resources. Their unique vantage points often give them a
window onto opportunity to which busy upright creatures may only rarely, if
ever, be privy. For many species, this resourcefulness comes coupled with an
embedded capacity for patience. Simply watch a great egret or blue heron
searching for breakfast and you’ll embrace a new understanding of patience. I’m
learning that there’s both a need to apply oneself diligently to one’s daily
labor, and also to take things slowly, to survey the broader scene before
plunging deeply into activity.
10.Even a minor miracle
such as landing gracefully on water can come to be second nature with practice,
which helps to transform self-doubt, fear, skepticism, and lassitude into
polished performance. I watch the skinny-legged rail come to a skidding but graceful landing
in a shallow pool beside the bike path. Grace triumphs over physical form, as
its small football-shaped body, gangly neck, large almond-shaped head, and
overly long orange beak do not advertise, “Look at graceful me!” Clearly,
practice has enabled the adult rail to alight and land with an artful polish
that seems the result of committed practice (coupled with some wonderful
assistance in the genetic realm from Mother Nature).
11. Bloom where you are planted. I tend to wait until the conditions are “just right”
before beginning something, especially a new endeavor. From the proliferation
of all types of rather marvelous fungi, I’m taking the counsel to bloom in
whatever soil or leaf litter or tree bark you find yourself, as you may just be
able to nourish others from the nutrients you draw from whatever medium in which you find yourself.
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