Over the weekend a friend of mine invited me to join her and anyone else who showed up to read poetry at a cafe on Sunday morning. We could bring a poem of our own, or read a poem that we love. Three of us huddled around the table as a group of musicians played in the background and my friend read the poem she brought: The Summer Day, by Mary Oliver.
The poem opens with the question, “Who made the world?”
As it continues we observe a grasshopper and reflect on the spiritual side of nature. We feel the grass beneath our knees in our field.
And as it comes to an end, we return to a series of questions that end with one I know well. Chances are you know it, too.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
It was like the squeak of a record coming to a sudden stop. Excuse me?
This quote that is so often used as inspiration to go out and live big and live loud, to work hard and do Big Things is actually about spending a quiet day out in the field, kneeling in the grass, and watching a grasshopper.
There have been so many times I’ve seen that quote and thought, “I should be doing more!”
And according to Mary Oliver, yes, I should have been doing more: more feeling the grass beneath my feet, more observing the insects that share this world with me, more watching the bird that built a nest in my yard.
I’m all for the big, mountaintop moments and following dreams, but in the last year or so I’ve also been learning to find the beauty in the ordinary, in the everyday. I’ve been learning that there’s value in resting. I’ve learned the joy of sitting outside without books and notebooks or something to keep me busy and just take in what’s around me.
Tell me, what else should I do?
If you, too, see quotes like that and feel like you should be more, give yourself permission to take some time to sit outside as the sun sets. Look for shapes in the clouds. Feel the grass beneath your feet — or better yet, lay down and feel it on the backs of your arms. Close your eyes as you feel the breeze rustle through your hair and cool your skin on a hot day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
[Mary Oliver]
Here’s a link to the full poem.
And if you’d like to hear more about our morning at Mim’s, you can read this post and watch this Reel.
