Wild Geese
by: Mary Oliver
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.
Mary Oliver doesn't believe in guilt and recrimination and expectations. Walking through the desert for a hundred miles on your knees repenting just isn't her thing. Instead, she celebrates the sun and rain and prairies and deep trees. She knows her place in the family of things.
I'm in agreement with Oliver. Disappointment is a useless emotion, and I've learned a good way to avoid it: don't have expectations. Accept family for who they are, not who you want them to be. Some people arrive 15 minutes early for everything. Others don't. Some people are Christmas people. Others prefer Halloween. Some people plan their lives weeks/months in advance. Others are lucky if they remember to put on underwear in the morning.
Instead of wasting time being disappointed or annoyed, I discovered a better practice way back when my daughter was in preschool. When one of her classmates was absent, the teacher would say, "John Smith isn't here today. We wish him well." It's totally disarming and generous. No judgement at all.
I'd love to be able to say that I'm never disappointed or angry or hurt by people. That I love everyone in my family of things. I can't. But I can say that I try to be understanding and compassionate toward every person I know and love. I literally do wish them all well.
It's not only a blessing on the person you wish well, but also a blessing on yourself. It releases you from all kinds of negative emotions and actions. You literally feel better about yourself, your family, and the world.
I spent most of today finishing my annual Christmas essay. It was quite the chore, despite the fact that I've been working on it for several months. I'm relieved and exhausted tonight. I think the essay turned out well. I feel good about it.
Whenever I'm in the middle of a big or small writing project, I can become . . . irritable. That's a kind way of describing myself and my mood. I'm not tolerant or understanding. I don't wish people well. I just want people to do one of two things: leave me alone or leave me alone.
I'm past that point now. The essay is done, for better or worse. Tomorrow morning, I'll go to the radio station to record it to air next week some time.
So, on this dark December night, Saint Marty can again say with all sincerity: "I wish you well."
I wish you well too
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