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?
—Mary Oliver Excerpted from her poem, The Summer Day
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to have a good life. This topic might seem calming and contemplative but it actually stems from a deep sense of grief over the fact that I’ve started to think that we are, collectively, doomed.
It’s cold here. The mornings are drenched in icy mist and the sky’s been constantly overcast. It’s all very cosy and thoughtful, perfect weather for soup, writing, and music.
This is what I’ve been playing lately, a combination of strange music and soft music and the lovely sort of music that helps me drift off into my own thoughts. It’s a fantastic soundtrack for moving into this new season.
If you have any songs to add, share them in the comments! I’d love to add to the playlist 🙂
I feel like this woman sings exactly like I do – slightly out of range, slightly off-kilter – but somehow she manages to make it sound fantastic, instead of like horrific caterwauling. I’m bewildered. And intrigued. And envious? Many feelings here, folks.
We just came back from our annual family summer vacation (AKA The Rumpus) and while there’s a lot that could be said, I will begin by presenting to you the portraits Olive did of everyone in attendance.
As you’ll soon see, a picture truly is worth a thousand words (or in this case, a dollar, which is what Olive charged each of us. A bargain if you ask me.)