mary oliver

The sweet rewards of an insatiable curiosity

It is possible, I suppose that sometime we will learn everything there is to learn: what the world is, for example, and what it means. —Mary Oliver

I share Mary Oliver’s delight in exploring the unknown. Today, for example, I’m reveling in all there is to learn about this plump, juicy pineapple guava–an exotic fruit that I just now tasted for the very first time. Wow, is it ever good! It’s similar to a kiwi in size and texture, and it tastes like a tropical smoothie. A sweet indulgence, born of curiosity and mindfulness.

I planted this sapling in my backyard garden two years ago, during the autumnal equinox…

It was a miracle, really, to watch these beautiful flowers bloom in springtime, and then transform themselves into edible fruit.

…and if I’m lucky, it’ll produce more fruit every year to share and savor.

Rest in Poetry, Mary Oliver

There’s nothing spectacular about this photo, save for the memories it represents. I was meandering down the boardwalk, shrouded in ocean mist. My thoughts wandered, too, as is their wont on my morning walks. Suddenly this Torch Aloe appeared, cutting through the fog and setting ablaze a patch of lavender. The wonder of it all…high drama, whispered poetry.

I hope these unexpected encounters will always spark joy, and forever pique my curiosity. As Mary Oliver famously wrote,“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement.”

#FrecklesFriday (With thanks to Mary Oliver)

The sea can do craziness,

it can do smooth,

it can lie down like silk breathing 

or toss havoc shoreward;

it can give gifts or withhold all;

it can rise, ebb,

froth like an incoming frenzy of fountains,

or it can sweet-talk entirely.

As I can too, and so, no doubt, can you, and you.  

–Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings (featuring Freckles the Harbor Seal)

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Art Challenge of the Month: Rituals and Routines

Mindful 

(a poem from Mary Oliver’s collection, Why I Wake Early)

 

Everyday
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?

This is my contribution to the Art Challenge of the Month, Rituals and Routines. Want to join us? The rules are simple: “Draw, paint, photo shoot, embroider, install, write, muse …. any discipline is welcome. Over the weekend of March 18-19, come and announce here that you have posted.”