Invitation
by: Mary Oliver
Oh do you have time
to linger
for just a little while
out of your busy
and very important day
for the goldfinches
that have gathered
in a field of thistles
for a musical battle
to see who can sing
the highest note
or the lowest,
or the most expressive of mirth,
or the most tender?
Their strong, blunt beaks
drink the air
as they strive
melodiously
not for your sake
and not for mine
and not for the sake of winning
but for sheer delight and gratitude--
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in this broken world.
I beg of you,
do not walk by
without pausing
to attend to this
rather ridiculous performance.
It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.
You know, if we all listen close enough and hard enough, we can hear those goldfinches singing to us--an insistent chorus charging us to change our lives in some way. And it's not just a polite suggestion. The verb Rilke uses, and Oliver repeats, is "must." We must change our lives.
The follow-up question, of course, is simple: "How?"
Today, my wife and I took down the Christmas decorations in our house. (Before you get all judgmental, let me say that, in the past, we have let our Christmas tree blaze in our living room until well past Independence Day. So, we are actually ahead of schedule this year.) The reason for ending yuletide season this Memorial Day weekend is quite simple: it just felt like the right time.
I often let instinct motivate my decisions. For most life-altering choices, I do a gut check. If the idea of making some kind of change makes me uncomfortable, I interrogate that discomfort. Any kind of switch in life can inspire a certain level of anxiety in my being, and I'm not a person who embraces change easily. In fact, some might say that I am change-phobic.
That doesn't mean that I reject the idea of change outright, given a choice. No. That means that I need more time than other people to adjust to shifting realities. I'm not Billy Pilgrim, unstuck in time, leaping from one life situation to another with little to no preparation. If I wake up tomorrow morning on the planet of Tralfamadore, I'm probably not going to have a good time.
However, I can sense when a change is right and necessary. The last huge change I made in my life was over three years ago. At the time, I'd been working in the healthcare industry for over 20 years. The first six or so months of the pandemic, I masked up, registered patients, and took temperatures at hospital entrances. Then the adult programming position became available at the library, and I knew immediately that I wanted to pursue it. I applied and was interviewed. A couple weeks later, I was offered the job, and I accepted.
I like to think I helped a lot of people during my time in the healthcare field. I was good at calming patients and families down in stressful situations, making them laugh and relax. Some of my best friends still work in the medical profession, and I still make people laugh and relax for my job at the library. Some things never change.
I always listen for the goldfinches in the thistle field. They may be calling on me to start my next big adventure.
Or they may simply be saying to Saint Marty, "It's time to take down your Christmas tree."
No comments:
Post a Comment