Entering the Kingdom
by: Mary Oliver
The crows see me.
They stretch their glossy necks
In the tallest branches
Of green trees. I am
Possibly dangerous, I am
Entering the kingdom.
The dream of my life
Is to lie down by a slow river
And stare at the light in the trees--
To learn something by being nothing
A little while but the rich
Lens of attention.
But the crows puff their feathers and cry
Between me and the sun,
And I should go now.
They know me for what I am.
No dreamer,
No eater of leaves.
What Oliver is talking about here is retreating from the world a little while. Reducing herself to nothing more than an eyeball floating above a slow river beside trees flickering with sunlight. For you transcendentalists out there, think Ralph Waldo Emerson's transparent eyeball--the peace of seeing beyond the world in front of your face to something deeper.
I would love to claim that is the reason why I have been absent so long from blogging, that I've been transformed into that giant, floating eyeball, receiving sacred enlightenment by evaporating from the struggles of life. That I've been sitting on a mountaintop, communing with trees and crows and stars.
That would be bullshit. (That was for my dear friend, Gloria, who enjoys my occasional use of profanity.)
The truth of the matter is a little less metaphysical, I'm afraid. I've simply been too fucking busy and too fucking tired. (Everything occurs in threes, including profanity.) I've been teaching and planning a surprise 50th birthday party for my wife and revising a poetry manuscript and hosting concerts/author readings/workshops for the library where I work and recording/editing podcasts.
If all that sounds like too much for one person, it is. Something had to give, and, unfortunately, for a while it has been blogging. I got out of the habit of writing. Period. Life got complicated, and carving out time for a little self care became necessary. (And by "self care" I mean sleep.)
I suppose that revelation is sort of like getting in touch with my transparent eyeball, finding that little particle of God in me, listening to Oliver's crow in the tree--eyeball and particle and crow telling me the world was spinning a little too fast.
Another clue that my life was out-of-control: I was at a medical appointment a week or so ago and ended up in the ER with a blood sugar that wouldn't register. That means it was around 20 or less. (Normal is between 70 and 110.) I don't think I had a seizure, but I was pretty damn close.
So, all these things--eyeball, crows, God particle, my body--were saying, "Let go, dumb ass." That's what I did.
I'm fine. Still insanely busy, but trying to be kinder to myself. Please forgive my absence, and know that I care about you all. Wish you peace and love and chocolate.
Saint Marty just needed to . . . fucking . . . slow . . . down . . .
