Six Recognitions of the Lord
by: Mary Oliver
1.
I know a lot of fancy words.
I tear them from my heart and my tongue.
Then I pray.
2.
Lord God, mercy is in your hands, pour
me a little. And tenderness too. My
need is great. Beauty walks so freely
and with such gentleness. Impatience puts
a halter on my face and I run away over
the green fields wanting your voice, your
tenderness, but having to do with only
the sweet grasses of the fields against
my body. When I first found you I was
filled with light, now the darkness grows
and it is filled with crooked things, bitter
and weak, each one bearing my name.
3.
I lounge on the grass, that's all. So
simple. Then I lie back until I am
inside the cloud that is just above me
but very high, and shaped like a fish.
Or, perhaps not. Then I enter the place
of not-thinking, not-remembering, not-
wanting. When the blue jay cries out his
riddle, in his carping voice, I return.
But I go back, the threshold is always
near. Over and back, over and back. Then
I rise. Maybe I rub my face as though I
have been asleep. But I have not been
asleep. I have been, as I say, inside
the cloud, or, perhaps, the lily floating
on the water. Then I go back to town,
to my own house, my own life, which has
now become brighter and simpler, some-
where I have never been before.
4.
Of course I have always known you
are present in the clouds, and the
black oak I especially adore, and the
wings of birds. But you are present
too in the body, listening to the body,
teaching it to live, instead of all
that touching, with disembodied joy.
We do not do this easily. We have
lived so long in the heaven of touch,
and we maintain our mutability, our
physicality, even as we begin to
apprehend the other world. Slowly we
make our appreciative response.
Slowly appreciation swells to
astonishment. And we enter the dialogue
of our lives that is beyond all under-
standing or conclusion. It is mystery.
It is love of God. It is obedience.
5.
Oh, feed me this day, Holy Spirit, with
the fragrance of the fields and the
freshness of the oceans which you have
made, and help me to hear and to hold
in all dearness those exacting and wonderful
words of our Lord Christ Jesus, saying:
Follow me.
6.
Every summer the lilies rise
and open their white hands until they almost
cover the black waters of the pond. And I give
thanks but it does not seem like adequate thanks,
it doesn't seem
festive enough or constant enough, nor does the
name of the Lord or the words of thanksgiving come
into it often enough. Everywhere I go I am
treated like royalty, which I am not. I thirst and
am given water. My eyes thirst and I am given
the white lilies on the black water. My heart
sings but the apparatus of singing doesn't convey
half what it feels and means. In spring there's hope,
in fall the exquisite, necessary diminishing, in
winter I am as sleepy as any beast in its
leafy cave, but in summer there is
everywhere the luminous sprawl of gifts,
the hospitality of the Lord and my
inadequate answers as I row my beautiful, temporary body
through the water-lily world.
It's a pretty common theme in literature--this quest for the Lord. Think about it. Wilbur's quest for a friend in Charlotte's Web, and Charlotte answering from above. The little spider sacrifices her life to save her porcine friend's life. Then there's Holden's fantasy of saving all the children of the world from rushing off a cliff into adulthood. All Holden wants to do is preserve everything innocent and pure. Then there's Luke Skywalker using the power of the Force to defeat the Emperor with the help of the holy ghost of Obi-Wan. And Scrooge's redemption because of visits from a trinity of Christmas spirits. Frodo has to carry his ring/cross to the top of Mount Doom, and with it the hope of all of Middle Earth. I could go on if you want me to, but you get the idea.
Oliver's encounters with the Lord in this poem are very transcendental--she sees beyond what she can see. The Lord is in sweet grasses, clouds, a black oak, the wings of birds, and water lilies. Basically, signs of the divine are everywhere, Oliver says. We just don't open our minds or hearts or eyes enough to recognize them. Because we are limited, impatient creatures. To borrow from Biblical narrative, we are Paul on the way to Damascus, having to be struck blind to fully see and hear and experience God.
It has been a long day. I got to the library at around 7:15 this morning, and I didn't leave until around 8:30 tonight. I worked on event planning and a PowerPoint presentation and handouts. For most of the day, I was holed up in my office, staring at computer screens. However, it was work I enjoyed--creative and challenging. This is my first recognition of the Lord today.
It was my son's last day of school for the summer, and he managed to maintain all A's this academic year. My daughter is studying to take the MCAT in July and will graduate with her bachelor's degree this coming December. Even though my wife has some mental health struggles, she seems to be doing alright, at work and at home. This is my second recognition of the Lord today.
The rear brakes on my Subaru have been grinding terribly for a couple weeks, getting progressively louder and more alarming. Today, the husband of my wife's cousin fixed our brakes. (From what I understand, the pads needed replacing.) He did the work for free, and the parts only came to around $40. I will do something to thank him for his generosity of time and labor and spirit. This is my third recognition of the Lord today.
This evening, I got together with some poet friends for a monthly meeting of the Marquette Poets Circle. Although only a few people showed up (it is summer), I was able to talk poetry, read poetry aloud, and listen to others read poetry aloud. This might not sound like a whole lot of fun to my disciples who aren't into poetry, but, for me, it was my fourth recognition of the Lord today.
Also this evening, one of my best friends had an art gallery reception at the library. We've known each other for over thirty years, and she has helped me through a lot of difficult shit in my life. Her art is needle felting, and she created some amazing work for this show. I got to hang with her for a little while tonight and enjoy her beautiful exhibit. That was my fifth recognition of the Lord today.
Like I said, I was inside most of the day. However, the view from my office window was alive with blue, blue sky and the kind of green you only see in Bob Ross landscapes. Not a happy little accident of a cloud to be found. And that was my sixth recognition of the Lord today.
Like Oliver, Saint Marty knows a lot of fancy words. Tonight, he tears those words from his heart and tongue, and offers a prayer of thanks for this water-lily day instead.
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