Shadows
by: Mary Oliver
Everyone knows the great energies running amok cast
terrible shadows, that each of the so-called
senseless acts has its thread looping
back through the world and into a human heart.
And meanwhile
the gold-trimmed thunder
wanders the sky; the river
may be filling the cellars of the sleeping town.
Cyclone, fire, and their merry cousins
bring us to grief--but these are the hours
with the old wooden-god faces;
we lift them to our shoulders like so many
black coffins, we continue walking
into the future. I don't mean
there are no bodies in the river,
or bones broken by the wind. I mean
everyone who has heard the lethal train-roar
of the tornado swears there was no mention ever
of any person, or reason--I mean
the waters rise without any plot upon
history, or even geography. Whatever
power of the earth rampages, we turn to it
dazed by anonymous eyes; whatever
the name of the catastrophe, it is never
the opposite of love.
This poem reads like a laundry list of fears--from the train-roar of the tornado to the old wooden-god faces. Human beings associate shadows with those elements of the universe that can be destructive or lethal. Of course, fear is something humans created. The shadows in Oliver's poem are all natural phenomenon--the power of the earth.
Are there shadows in the world? Absolutely. Are those shadows filled with pain and suffering sometimes? Without a doubt. Can those shadows be frightening and beautiful simultaneously? Certainly. There's a reason why people stand outside to watch lightning storms. Or drive to Lake Superior to watch 15- and 20-foot waves crash into the shore during blizzards. The power of nature is both terrifying and wonderful.
The one shadow that frightens most people is the future. Nobody knows what's going to happen tomorrow. Or in two hours. Or in the next two minutes. We all might wake in the morning to find out that an asteroid is on a collision course with our planet and will cause an extinction event. Or we could step into a crosswalk and be mowed down by a passing pickup truck. Terrible things happen, despite our best efforts to avoid them.
I'm a planner. Each day, I curate a to-do list. I don't always complete everything on that list by the time my head hits the pillow at night, but creating the list provides me with a sense of control. "This is what will happen today" is what I'm telling myself. No surprises. No catastrophes. Just follow the numbers, step-by-step, and nothing bad can happen.
Of course, that's a load of shit. Bad things can and still do happen. Sisters are diagnosed with lymphoma of the brain. Big dogs attack smaller dogs. Sociopaths are elected President of the United States. Rubes are convinced to "peacefully" overthrow of the United States government. Fear is a natural response to all of these situations.
I could spend all day, every day of my life afraid of these shadows. Refusing to get out of bed or leave my house. But I don't. You see, the remedy of darkness is light. The remedy of fear is faith. I don't believe the universe is out to get me. On the contrary. I think the universe, and everything in it (shadows included) are gifts to be treasured. That's my hope for all my disciples.
Some people think hope is for fools.
Saint Marty thinks that hope is what splits open the clouds and lets the sun shine through.
