Wild Geese by Mary Oliver (Mary Oliver reading) |
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.
I just got back from "A Weekend With David Whyte," at Asilomar (near Monterey). It was the anniversary of Mary Oliver's death, so David began by reading this poem.
That first line is arresting, isn't it? You do not have to be good. And then, You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. What does that mean? I like the image of the soft animal of my body. It sounds so kind to my body. A soft, warm, cuddly animal. Love what it loves. That's kind of a mystery to me. Maybe like the Ignatian thought that God wants us to have the desire of our life.
And ending in my place in the family of things. I belong. Belonging is what we all want.
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