Mary oliver what is it you plan to do

Oct 24, AM. Braigwen books view quotes. Oct 23, PM. Mayo books view quotes. Becca books view quotes. Oct 22, AM. Robin 0 books view quotes. Adriana 13 books view quotes. Oct 18, AM. Sherry 3 books view quotes. Oct 17, AM. Ellen books view quotes. Oct 13, AM. Valentina 36 books view quotes. Oct 12, PM. Melissa books view quotes.

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Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? All rights reserved. Please go ahead and share the good word! Like this: Like Loading Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here I can take care of my body and be in the best shape of my life at 49 years old only to have to have surgery on my knee. While most everything that happens is beyond my power to influence, by consciously deciding my response to whatever happens, I determine my reality and the plan for my one wild and precious life.

For example, after being apart for almost a decade and many years of my being civil, heck — nice even, my ex-husband is still not amicable to me. My emails attempting to build camaraderie and cooperation about our teenage sons go unacknowledged. Messages thanking him for his parenting efforts go unanswered.

Any olive branch I extend is rejected. Over time, bypassing gut reactions and repeatedly choosing to act differently supports neural networks in your brain making this kind of behavior easier and the default. Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? I plan to live an intentional life making conscious decisions about who I want to be and behaving accordingly.

The words of the poem inspire me to go beyond my comfort zone, to allow curiosity and passion to lead me, and to take a big breath and push through the fear each and every time. I want to look back on a life sprinkled with awkward moments, failures, and tears of pain because this would mean that I was putting myself out there, taking risks, and allowing myself to genuinely feel and live.

I also know that interwoven among these snapshots will be giggle snorts, exhilarating triumphs, and tears of joy. Every one of these experiences synergistically completes the richly textured fabric of a full life. I plan to live an adventurous, inquisitive life so that reminiscing brings a lively sparkle to my eyes, a knowing smile to my face, and a satisfied warmth to my heart.

Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Copyright by Mary Oliver. All rights reserved. Well, how lovely! And how appropriate at Thanksgiving as we review for what and for whom we are thankful.

What a nice reminder that it is all in perspective…glass half empty or half full. Lots of love, Mom. The things that attract my attention at my age are more unconscious and intuitive than they were when I was your age. The process of forgiveness and understanding takes the time it takes.

Even if it remains forever a one-sided act of contrition, taking the action is still good for you in ways visible and invisible. Tell me, what is it you plan to do With your one wild and precious life? Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone-- and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on the other side of the world, like a red flower streaming upward on its heavenly oils, say, on a morning in early summer, at its perfect imperial distance-- and have you ever felt for anything such wild love-- do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure that fills you, as the sun reaches out, as it warms you as you stand there, empty-handed-- or have you too turned from this world-- or have you too gone crazy for power, for things?

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place in the family of things. This morning two mockingbirds in the green field were spinning and tossing the white ribbons of their songs into the air. I had nothing better to do than listen. I mean this seriously.

In Greece, a long time ago, an old couple opened their door to two strangers who were, it soon appeared, not men at all, but gods. It is my favorite story-- how the old couple had almost nothing to give but their willingness to be attentive-- but for this alone the gods loved them and blessed them-- when they rose out of their mortal bodies, like a million particles of water from a fountain, the light swept into all the corners of the cottage, and the old couple, shaken with understanding, bowed down-- but still they asked for nothing but the difficult life which they had already.

And the gods smiled, as they vanished, clapping their great wings.