December 8: "I Go Down to the Shore," High School, Rolling In and Out

Mary Oliver gets some advice  . . . 

I Go Down to the Shore

by:  Mary Oliver

I go down to the shore in the morning

and depending on the hour the waves

are rolling in or moving out,

and I say, oh, I am miserable,

what shall--

what should I do?  And the sea says

in its lovely voice:

Excuse me, I have work to do.

The human animal has a penchant for misery.  Perhaps it's the way we approach life--lamenting what isn't instead of celebrating what is.  The sea in Oliver's poem has no time for misery or praise.  It has a job to do, and it won't be distracted by Oliver's grief.  It just keeps rolling in and out.

Today, I visited two creative writing classes at a local high school.  I talked about poetry--my love for it, my devotion to it, my belief in its healing properties.  Some of the students got it.  Others merely tolerated my message, like the sea tolerates Oliver; they had more important teenagery things on their minds.  Boyfriends.  Girlfriends.  Math and science.  Weekend parties.  Fitting in.  Not fitting in.

Tonight, I had another birthday celebration for my daughter.  This one took place at my parents' house, with my sisters hosting and cooking.  We ate one of my daughter's favorite dishes--a chicken cordon bleu casserole that my sister, Sally, used to make all the time when she was alive.  Then we had cupcakes and sang "Happy Birthday."  After the table was cleared, we played a board game, and it was wonderful.

I simply didn't have enough time to be miserable today.  Now, I'm sitting in my living room, enjoying the glowing lights on my Christmas tree.  Classical Christmas music playing softly.  My day is done, the waves are rolling out, as Oliver would say.

I'm sure many of the high school students I taught today are up to the teenagery things they were thinking about this afternoon.  Getting drunk with friends.  Making out with their crushes.  Or just hanging at home, brooding and miserable because they're not getting high or laid.

As I said at the beginning of this post, the human animal has a penchant for misery.  However, I'm not giving into it this evening.  Night has fallen.  Bing Crosby is crooning.  My kids are happy.  Will that change tomorrow?  Possibly.

But tonight, Saint Marty is the sea.  Just rolling with it.