Mindful
Everyday
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful,
the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily
presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
-Mary Oliver
Reflection on this phrase: "Joy deserves a body"
Boston Marathon NPR Articles:
and
Gratitude arrives quietly at first—
the remembrance of people
who have shaped you,
the gift of music
that brings a moment right back
to where you first found it.
It grows when you turn toward it,
when you let your body
feel the mercies of the day—
the hand on your back,
the laughter that lifts you,
seeing what the river has for you
even when you don’t know what’s next.
Joy is not shy.
It waits for you in the open,
in the bright, unexpected, uncomplicated places—
in an outrageous blue wig,
cheering strangers,
a whole day sparkling with pixie dust.
Joy is the spark that leaps when two people
see each other fully and something inside says,
Yes. This is what we’re made for.
Gratitude is the remembering.
Joy is the rising.
Together they make a home in you—
a steady, pulsing truth
that wants to be lived out loud.
And maybe this is the secret:
that joy is a way
of moving through the world
with your heart
soft, grounded, and tender-
and your hands open.
A way of saying,
again and again,
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
-ewh
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