It has been awhile since I have blogged, and that is because I have been engaging in mindfulness around health issues, quality of life, etc. While I have missed being here, I have appreciated the quiet time, in the mornings especially, to read, pray, and “just be.”
This poem found me recently, and I thought I’d post it today. Perhaps, it was meant to find you too.
Mindful
by Mary Oliver
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?
