I love this Mary Oliver poem ~
The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all 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?
Not to be a negative force, but for me this pandemic has been a visceral reminder of life and death.
"Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?"
So as we in the Pacific Northwest emerge - like worms out of our protective casings - into butterflies. Gradually back, and safely back into the world, do you think you want to do something different?
Is there a way you now hold your 'one wild and precious life' differently?
If you want some help...pondering, getting clear about...being witnessed in your lovely process, I can help! Call/text me at 360-432-1236 to arrange a free consultation either over the phone or online!
I look forward to supporting you.