Category: Tenneson Woolf Poetry

One of my favorite poems is Mary Oliver‘s Instructions for Living A Life. I’ve used it often to remind myself of, and to invite others to, some values-based simplicity and practice.

Writes Oliver,

Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

Yes.

This morning, I found my journaling to have a similar tone. Of reminder and of invitation.

More Instructions for Living A Life (thx Mary Oliver)

No defaulting (or try to reduce it)
to someone else’s pain, suffering, or limits.

Compassion, yes.
Understanding, yes.
Kindness, yes.
A helping hand that goes the extra mile, yes.

But don’t live loyal to something not yours. 
Beware of that unconscious yet persistent recruitment.

Get on with the wonder that is.

Last post, pre-Christmas.
I’ve been reflecting on the magic and importance of good company.
For the dreams we carry, the yearnings, the longings, the imaginative streaks.
And for the days when we just need a friend with kind eyes and helping heart.

May we each know, learn, celebrate such dreams, such friendships.

I have learned some 
xxxabout what it is to dream.
To have ideas.
To feel excitement.
To follow hunches.

To choose to start, and continue.
To trust clarity from the belly.
To let go of plans
To surrender to a greater flow.

Perhaps you have too.

I have learned some 
xxxabout what it is to feel doubt amidst dreams. 
Why bother?
This is silly!
Why persist?

Perhaps you have too?

I have learned some 
xxxabout the good medicine of good company.
Daring to disclose the sacred and the private.
Finding each other, you in my dreams and me in yours.
Imagining a sharedness.

I have learned some 
xxxabout feeling aliveness together.
Animated in shared learning.
In added wonder. 
In honest laughter.

I have learned some 
xxxabout what it is to be moved by life.
To be excited by possibility.
To be compelled.
To be claimed.

Perhaps you have too?

In my young 60s, I’m finding that there is a different way of being that has come to get me.

It’s a bit confusing. But perhaps quite natural.

The 20s are so much about being formed — school and jobs and income. Early family. In all, I was rewarded for my tenacity.

The 30s and 40s are so much about discovering craft and contribution — finding place, promotion. Growing in gift.

The 50s, well this is often a honing time — a dance between what has been consistently important in our earlier times, with what is now changing and stripping away from clutter.

My 60s, I’m finding, have come to get me with not just a frivolous way of wander, but rather, with an imperative. And often leading with joy.

All of that leads me to this mornings poem.

I wander.
This is what I do.
It is what I prefer.

I like moving, 
my mind and my heart particularly, 
with fluidity. 

I like feeling guided
aaa by water and by river banks.

It hasn’t always been this way.
I’ve also loved commitment to one task,
and tenacity pushed to get things done.

But these days, in my young 60s,
there is new meaning, purpose,
and calling.

I so much love and need to flow.
aaa To choose wander as the way I live and contribute.