Tag Archives: Mary Oliver

The Perfect Love of Spring

Spring by Mary Oliver

“Somewhere a black bear has just risen from sleep and is staring

down the mountain. All night in the brisk and shallow restlessness of early spring

I think of her, her four black fists flicking the gravel, her tongue

like a red fire touching the grass, the cold water. There is only one question:

how to love this world. I think of her rising like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against the silence of the trees. Whatever else

my life is with its poems and its music and its glass cities,

it it also this dazzling darkness coming down the mountain, breathing and tasting:

all day I think of her – her white teeth, her wordlessness, her perfect love.”

-Mary Oliver

Going to the Woods Alone

“Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone,
with not a single friend,
for they are all smilers and talkers
and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree.

I have my ways of praying,
as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone
I can become invisible.
I can sit on the top of a dune
as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned.

 

I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.

 


If you have ever gone to the woods with me,
I must love you very much.”

-Mary Oliver

 

There Is Only One Question

Spring continues to unfold,  with the absorbing music of life bubbling just beneath the surface.  I feel it.

Parker J. Palmer’s words resonated deeply with me this morning as he wrote the following words as a prelude to Mary Oliver’s poem – both his words and Mary’s poem follow.   They speak to me of of season of rebirth in northwest Montana and of Love.

“Spring arrived on my patch of the planet last week, but it’s 25° here as I write! To encourage the season to show up more fully, here’s Mary Oliver with her spot-on description of “the brisk and shallow restlessness of early spring.”

I’m especially grateful for the profound reminder in the pivotal line of this poem: “There is only one question: how to love this world.”

Oliver illustrates love for the world not with a Valentine sentiment, but with a black bear “just risen from sleep” coming down the mountain with “her white teeth, her wordlessness, her perfect love.”

Wild animals “love the world” because they depend on it for their well-being. We are dependent, too, no matter how arrogantly we pretend that we are self-sufficient.

There’s only one way for us to survive and thrive. We must learn to love the earth and each other with the ferocity of a mother bear—saying “NO!” to everything that threatens that which we love, and “YES!” to all that gives it life…”

-Parker J. Palmer

“Somewhere a black bear has just risen from sleep and is staring

down the mountain. All night in the brisk and shallow restlessness of eary spring

I think of her, her four black fists flickering the gravel, her tongue

like a red fire touching the grass, the cold water. There is only one question:

how to love this world. I think of her rising like  black and leafy lodge

to sharpen her claws against the silence of the trees. Whatever else

my life is with its poems and its music and its glass cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness coming down the mountain, breathing and tasting,

all day I think of her — her white teeth, her wordlessness, her perfect love.”

-Mary Oliver

 

Scenes from Winter – A Gallery of Photos

“No snowflake ever falls in the wrong place”

-Zen Koan

Fence-Snow-Blues-Sunset-680x1024

“Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness.”

-Mary Oliver

“Let us love winter

for it is the

Spring of genius”

Pietro Aretino

 


Click onto any image to see a full sized version, then use the arrows to continue with full size slide show
:

Good Morning

“Hello, sun in my face.

Hello, you who make the morning

and spread it over the fields

and into the faces of the tulips

and the nodding morning glories,

and into the windows of , even, the

miserable and the crotchety —

 

best preacher that ever was,

dear star, that just happens

to be where you are in the universe

to keep us from ever-darkness,

to ease us with warm touching,

to hold us in the great hands of light —

good morning, good morning, good morning

 

Watch, now, how I start the day

in happiness, in kindness.”

-Mary Oliver, Why I Wake Early

There is  a note at the end of this volume, Why I Wake Early, that says: “On the eve of the publication of her third volume of poems, Twelve Moons, Archibald MacLeish wrote to Mary Oliver: “You have indeed entered the kingdom. You have done something better than create your own world: you have discovered the world we all live in and do not see and cannot feel.”  Mary Oliver must have always been compelled to wake early to take it all in, to discover, and then discover anew, in each moment, our magnificent and glorious world…  Her words LIVE and help us to live each moment, even in her absence.

What Is A Prayer?

“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.”

-Mary Oliver

From The Minds Journal I found the following interpretation of prayer and it resonated deeply.  For me, nature’s wonder, these mountains, this majesty, allows and invites a prayerful approach; a reverent way of being alive absorbed by this commanding presence.

Keep praying always…. in all the ways that speak to you.

Door to the Temple

Mary Oliver.

A treasure, a poet, a conduit to wonder…

“I could not be a poet without the natural world. Someone else could. But not me. For me the door to the woods is the door to the temple.”

____________________________________________________________________

“For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.”

____________________________________________________________________

“Today I’m flying low and I’m not saying a word.

I’m letting all of the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must, the bees in the garden rumbling a little, the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten. And so forth.

But I’m taking the day off. Quiet as a feather. I hardly move though really I’m traveling a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors into the temple.”

____________________________________________________________________

All above quoted words by Mary Oliver

Thank you Mary Oliver for the ropes let down when I was lost.  You inspired and lifted me up, reminded me of the always verdant, wise, and loving absorption available in the natural world.  Your words were and are a respite.  You will be so deeply missed, but your rich deep poetry, music really, will remain – always.

Spring Sampler – A Gallery of Photos

“Every spring is the only spring – a perpetual astonishment.” -Ellis Peters

“Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of Spring?” – Neltje Blanchan

“Come with me into the woods where Spring is advancing, as it does, not matter what, not being singular or particular, but one of the forever gifts and certainly visible.” – Mary Oliver

Click into any image to see a full scale version and to start a slideshow…

The Untrimmable Light of the World

“Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for –
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world –
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant –
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these –
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?”

-Mary Oliver