Thank you so much for this. Wild Geese, Lead, At the River Clarion, & Sometimes are my favorite Mary Oliver poems. And these words, borrowed from Sometimes, are my creative credo & lodestar: “Rules for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” I had the words “be astonished” tattooed to my arm this year. A constant call to wonder. 💖
And, y'all will love this from Mary: "Praying. It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak."
It's funny, maybe, that though I love Mary's poems tremendously (her piece about being gifted a box of darkness never ceases to kick me in the gut in a good way), I love her as much (if not more) for her complicated humanity. She did survive a painful childhood, finding peace in the natural world, the love of her partner Molly, and the relationships she maintained in her mostly rural, mostly quiet life. But she also spoke eloquently, especially later in her life, about how the choices she made were both intentional (to prioritize her poetry) and also constricted by the need to figure out how to be here, to stay, even in the face of life's cruelties. That's a challenge and a burden I'm deeply familiar with.
One of my favorite interviews ever with her is the unedited version of Krista Tippet's conversation with her for the On Being podcast. It's not on the edited version, but in the unedited one at a certain point you can hear this thwack, thwack, thwack! in the background. When I heard it I knew exactly what it was because I had made that sound so many times myself, tamping down a new pack of cigarettes on my palm before I opened it. That was when I discovered that Mary was a lifetime smoker, even after a cancer diagnosis, and instead of that making me feel judgmental or disappointed in her (like my great guru had feet of clay) it made me feel even more tender and admiring toward her. In that tiny sound I was reminded that she was, like me, just a person-- a brilliant, thoughtful, inspiring one, for sure-- trying to carry the weight of being human with a kind of stubborn gladness instead of being crushed by it.
"Wild Geese" is one of those poems that took my breath away on first read, and to this day I can't get past the opening line without tearing up just a little. Too often we are told we must be not only good, but exemplary; that our value is in the quality of our "product". I love this poem as a constant reminder that this narrative is wrong. I have yet to find an Oliver poem I dislike even a little, but if I had to choose a favorite, it'd be this.
Mary Oliver's work is one of the cornerstones of a women's group I'm in, and the group (and by extension, her work) has changed my life in ways that I'm still discovering daily. A goose is on my tattoo wish list because of this poem :)
"attention is a kind of love" that is beautiful and I feel it. It makes me think of this poem, "The Real Prayers Are Not the Words, But the Attention that Comes First."
I too, grew up in Ohio, wandering in the woods and along a favorite stream. Those were formative years and that I have the privilege of claiming my space in the family of humanity is a blessing I do not take for granted. I live in constant wonder of creation and that I wonder while I wander is no surprise. What is surprising is that I am still here doing that every day, some more than others. Life is full of Grace and glad surprises.
As a former psychotherapist, I often offered poems to my clients. I particularly recall the effect of
'to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves' with one young woman for whom this became a healing mantra. Thank you Maggie for your moving tribute to Mary Oliver.
I may have just purchased that exact bumper sticker on Etsy 😬🤩 thank you for the beautiful reminder of Mother Mary’s work and the power of our attention as an act of love and gratitude 💗
I love Mary Oliver. Thank you for this lovely post about her. I have done volunteer work with women in treatment for addiction and often used her poem The Summer Day to help the women get started with their own writing.
Once again, your post hits me in my poet-heart. Mary Oliver's Wild Geese saved my life when I was at a crossroad. Her permission "you don't have to be good" led me through this dark time to discovering my "place in the family of things."
Hi Maggie. For me, Mary Oliver's poems are everything. But Something that blew a hole through me was her essay "Bird" from her collection "Upstream". For those unaware it is about a time she and her partner take in an injured seagull that is destined to die. Her observations about the joy of this bird as it fades...its joy of living even a short life. My God. I am weeping now just writing this! How can anyone doubt her power? There is something in her writing - a truth, a vulnerability...something. She teases open some sacred ache that is a universal language. Willa Cather was another writer whose powers of description could speak beautifully of the natural world. And Margaret Renkl, who also writes lovely sentences that are in this vein. Anyway, I'll be thinking of Mary today, who was born the same week as my daughter...65 years apart.
"Moments" is my favorite of her poems. But I also love the way she taught me about what a prayer is, and about how a "box full of darkness" can be a gift. I love how in many seasons of my life, "The Journey" has resurfaced. I love the way my girlfriends and I send each other Mary Oliver poems with no caption needed. I wish she were still here, but I'm so grateful that we still have her poems with us. Happy Belated Birthday, Mary.
Thank you so much for this. Wild Geese, Lead, At the River Clarion, & Sometimes are my favorite Mary Oliver poems. And these words, borrowed from Sometimes, are my creative credo & lodestar: “Rules for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” I had the words “be astonished” tattooed to my arm this year. A constant call to wonder. 💖
Oh, how I love a constant call to wonder! What a way to live! ❤️
Thank you for this, Christen.
"Be astonished" is a great mantra!
So many to choose from, and for me The Journey always brings me to tears. “…and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do – – – determined to save
the only life you could save.”
Yes!
The only life you could save.....How true is that?
And, y'all will love this from Mary: "Praying. It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak."
Yes yes yes
It's funny, maybe, that though I love Mary's poems tremendously (her piece about being gifted a box of darkness never ceases to kick me in the gut in a good way), I love her as much (if not more) for her complicated humanity. She did survive a painful childhood, finding peace in the natural world, the love of her partner Molly, and the relationships she maintained in her mostly rural, mostly quiet life. But she also spoke eloquently, especially later in her life, about how the choices she made were both intentional (to prioritize her poetry) and also constricted by the need to figure out how to be here, to stay, even in the face of life's cruelties. That's a challenge and a burden I'm deeply familiar with.
One of my favorite interviews ever with her is the unedited version of Krista Tippet's conversation with her for the On Being podcast. It's not on the edited version, but in the unedited one at a certain point you can hear this thwack, thwack, thwack! in the background. When I heard it I knew exactly what it was because I had made that sound so many times myself, tamping down a new pack of cigarettes on my palm before I opened it. That was when I discovered that Mary was a lifetime smoker, even after a cancer diagnosis, and instead of that making me feel judgmental or disappointed in her (like my great guru had feet of clay) it made me feel even more tender and admiring toward her. In that tiny sound I was reminded that she was, like me, just a person-- a brilliant, thoughtful, inspiring one, for sure-- trying to carry the weight of being human with a kind of stubborn gladness instead of being crushed by it.
I love that box of darkness, too!
"Wild Geese" is one of those poems that took my breath away on first read, and to this day I can't get past the opening line without tearing up just a little. Too often we are told we must be not only good, but exemplary; that our value is in the quality of our "product". I love this poem as a constant reminder that this narrative is wrong. I have yet to find an Oliver poem I dislike even a little, but if I had to choose a favorite, it'd be this.
Mary Oliver's work is one of the cornerstones of a women's group I'm in, and the group (and by extension, her work) has changed my life in ways that I'm still discovering daily. A goose is on my tattoo wish list because of this poem :)
I love this, Emma—thank you.
"attention is a kind of love" that is beautiful and I feel it. It makes me think of this poem, "The Real Prayers Are Not the Words, But the Attention that Comes First."
Thanks, Maggie for remembering Mary.
Oh yes—thank you.
I too, grew up in Ohio, wandering in the woods and along a favorite stream. Those were formative years and that I have the privilege of claiming my space in the family of humanity is a blessing I do not take for granted. I live in constant wonder of creation and that I wonder while I wander is no surprise. What is surprising is that I am still here doing that every day, some more than others. Life is full of Grace and glad surprises.
Indeed it is!
As a former psychotherapist, I often offered poems to my clients. I particularly recall the effect of
'to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves' with one young woman for whom this became a healing mantra. Thank you Maggie for your moving tribute to Mary Oliver.
Lucky clients. Thank you.
"Dare I call it snobbery?" By all means! Date away!
Aaaaannnnd, I spelled "dare" wrong. Typical. Or should I say, typo-ical.
😂😂😂
Like 'This grashopper' --This essay. Today!
Thank you :):):)
I may have just purchased that exact bumper sticker on Etsy 😬🤩 thank you for the beautiful reminder of Mother Mary’s work and the power of our attention as an act of love and gratitude 💗
It is impossible to choose isn’t it?Each one I could say “oh this one; this one is my favourite”. But in this moment it is likely Messenger. 🤎
I love Mary Oliver. Thank you for this lovely post about her. I have done volunteer work with women in treatment for addiction and often used her poem The Summer Day to help the women get started with their own writing.
Once again, your post hits me in my poet-heart. Mary Oliver's Wild Geese saved my life when I was at a crossroad. Her permission "you don't have to be good" led me through this dark time to discovering my "place in the family of things."
Hi Maggie. For me, Mary Oliver's poems are everything. But Something that blew a hole through me was her essay "Bird" from her collection "Upstream". For those unaware it is about a time she and her partner take in an injured seagull that is destined to die. Her observations about the joy of this bird as it fades...its joy of living even a short life. My God. I am weeping now just writing this! How can anyone doubt her power? There is something in her writing - a truth, a vulnerability...something. She teases open some sacred ache that is a universal language. Willa Cather was another writer whose powers of description could speak beautifully of the natural world. And Margaret Renkl, who also writes lovely sentences that are in this vein. Anyway, I'll be thinking of Mary today, who was born the same week as my daughter...65 years apart.
"Moments" is my favorite of her poems. But I also love the way she taught me about what a prayer is, and about how a "box full of darkness" can be a gift. I love how in many seasons of my life, "The Journey" has resurfaced. I love the way my girlfriends and I send each other Mary Oliver poems with no caption needed. I wish she were still here, but I'm so grateful that we still have her poems with us. Happy Belated Birthday, Mary.