Mary Oliver

Is there some reason I never knew that the poet Mary Oliver existed?

Last night after attending an absolutely delightful yoga class with my friend Heather (led by Jamie Robinson) our yogi read us a Mary Oliver poem as we relaxed at the end of class. It was so gentle and moving as we lay there, after having twisted our bodies like pretzels for an hour, to be caressed by this inspiring poem. He read it twice so we could soak up the words. And then, he rang a singing bowl. And frankly, I could not have loved him any more than I did at that point. (You may not know that I have a singing bowl given to me by my mother-in-law. A bowl that I love deeply and has been carted around to all sorts of places because it soothes my soul. And it's sort of a party hit.)

The poem connected with me in a way that poetry hasn't for some time - maybe because I haven't spent time reading much poetry and fostering my love for it. And frankly I think most of us need more poetry in our lives. So today I took some time reading her poetry online - and was completely entranced. I have visions of printing these poems out and wallpapering my house with them. They are that good.

I share with you the poem that inspired me last night:

Mornings at Blackwater

For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.

And it always assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.

What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.

So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,

and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.

-Mary Oliver