I woke this morning without energy to follow the pattern of news delivery. I woke today further discouraged by the pattern of sound bytes made to manipulate, aggravate, and often, to recruit.
It’s quite a thing to live, as many of us are, sorting data, feeling, and meaning. It’s quite a thing to live, filtering trauma amidst very complex circumstance. It’s quite a thing to live, committed to wholeness in simple ways. I know to be patient. I know to stay close with my friends.
“Mysteries, Yes” was a post ten days ago by friend and colleague Katharine Weinmann. I’m grateful for Katharine’s continued way of offering insight, inspiration, and truth-telling — recently from Camino noticings. “Mysteries, Yes” is a poem by Mary Oliver, who, for me, helps immensely to invite some of the wholeness in the simple.
So, I repost here, with appreciation to Mary Oliver, and to Katharine. So as to wake with a few patterns of a yes that I can breathe in my heart and belly.
Mysteries, Yes — Mary Oliver
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.