July 8: "The Old Poets of China," Chased by the World, Busyness

Mary Oliver wants to escape the busyness of the world . . . 

The Old Poets of China

by:  Mary Oliver

Wherever I am, the world comes after me.

It offers me its busyness.  It does not believe

that I do not want it.  Now I understand

why the old poets of China went so far and high

into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.

I'm constantly chased by the world.  Most people are.  In the first few minutes after waking up, I lie in bed and inventory the busyness that will fill my upcoming day.  A lot of the time, the inventory consists of tasks/obligations I'm dreading and tasks/obligations I'm eager for.  As Oliver says, the world comes, whether or not it's invited.  I can't stop that from happening, and neither can Oliver.

I know the urge to disappear into mountains like the old poets of China. coming out only when camouflaged by the pale mist of the hills.  I experienced this urge this morning.  There were things I just didn't want to do (practice music in hot, stuffy churches all afternoon) and things I was happily anticipating (a parade and fireworks display).  I generally try to avoid events that involve large crowds of people.  Believe it or not, I'm kind of an introvert.  I would be more than happy sitting in a cabin on top of a mountain, scribbling poems, avoiding human contact.

During the first December of the pandemic, I spent over a month in quarantine.  Worked remotely on my laptop.  Couldn't go Christmas shopping or play music for any Christmas services (not many churches were open for business that year).  I didn't see or talk to anybody outside of my immediate household.  On Christmas Day, I cooked a turkey dinner, and we had short Zoom family gettogethers in the afternoon.  Other than that, I watched old movies and played board games with my kids.  

And it was one of the best Christmas seasons I've ever had.  No stress.  No busyness.  No world knocking at my front door.  I'm not saying I long for another global pandemic.  I'm saying we all could stand to be a little less busy.  Spend more time in the mountains, communing with goats and crows.

And, every now and then, a fireworks show, to remind me to believe in miracles.  I'm not antisocial.  More like anti-small talk and anti-stupid.

As long as you're quiet and keep to yourself, you are welcome on Saint Marty's side of the mountain.