Day 6: Learning from Mary Oliver
Like many women in my generation, I am a fan of Mary Oliver. Yesterday I had the opportunity to go see the documentary about her life. You can watch the trailer here.
The audience was made up largely of women who looked like me. That was partly a reflection of the neighbourhood and the time of the showing (late afternoon), but also, I suspect, a reflection of how much Mary Oliver speaks to us, perhaps even more as we age.
I often start groups I lead with one of her poems. On the off-chance you are unfamiliar with her work, here’s the poem I read last week to open a circle.
I Worried
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not, how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
Am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
The main thing I took away from the documentary was how quiet, and in many ways simple, her life was. She was committed to her craft. She was consistent. Her relationship was long-term, and she lived in the same place for decades. She walked, she observed, and she wrote.
I think she would encourage me to stick with this 68-writing project.
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