I am 1/3 of the way through this year long exercise of trying to respond every day to the poem, Mindful, by Mary Oliver. It's time to remind myself of it again in it's entirety. In rereading certain phrases stand out - look, listen, the ordinary, the common, the daily presentations. And I think that, so far, that is what has happened. Some days it is hard to find the joy, some days I have to remember to just be open to it. Other days, it comes so easily. But I still DO find delight in just being open to the possiblity of what COULD happen and that is good.
Every Day I see and hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light. It is 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 day to myself, how can you help but grow wise with such teachings as these- the untrimmable light of the world, the oceans shine, the prayers that are made out of grass?