On Presence — Mary Oliver
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"
— Mary Oliver, The Summer Day, House of Light, 1990, Beacon Press
Photo by Valentin Salja on Unsplash
Mary Oliver never wanted the microphone. For over forty years she lived quietly near Provincetown, walking the same woods and marshes each morning with a notebook in her pocket, watching herons, foxes, grasshoppers — the world most people walk past without looking at twice. She rarely gave interviews. She turned down the noise most successful writers chase.
She wasn't avoiding life. She was answering the question before she ever wrote it down. Her wild and precious life wasn't spent chasing more — it was spent paying attention to what was already in front of her, every single day, for decades.
The question isn't really a question.
It's an invitation to notice what you keep postponing.
Molins J.
What have you been postponing noticing — in your own life, today?
If this resonated, you might also enjoy: On Acceptance — Marcus Aurelius and On Awareness — James Thurber