Sometimes the desire to be lost again, as long ago, comes over me like a vapor. With growth into adulthood, responsibilities claimed me, so many heavy coats. I didn’t choose them, I don’t fault them, but it took time to reject them. ―Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays
Mary Oliver, prolific author and poet, died in 2019. Is it fair to say the world misses her? She gifted us with profound and surprising insights about nature and the world around us — insights we clearly need as a struggling society and culture too often at odds with something or someone. Fortunately, she left behind a plethora of timeless works that can nourish and support our dreams of a more peaceful, caring world.
Oliver’s book, “Dog Songs,” features poetry about the dogs in her life, along with observations that can only be called wise and intriguing. There definitely is something magical about a sleeping puppy. Hannah, our third dog, has always been a masterful napper … she inspires us to rest, relax, and rejuvenate on a daily basis. It’s amazing to me how animals teach us the basics over and over again, while still tolerating contemporary lifestyles. I’m sure, for instance, that massive television screens with constant chatter in the background annoy many pets. Such things could even cause anxiety; we’ve noticed it with our fourth dog, Georgia. She’s very restless in the evenings until we mute the television or switch to soothing music.
But how often do humans even think about such things? I bet Mary Oliver did.
As I read Upstream, I felt a deep kinship with Oliver, but explanations like this aren’t easily forgotten: “What I mean by spirituality is not theology, but attitude.” One of the best definitions of spirituality I’ve ever seen, I couldn’t agree more. In ten words, precise and straightforward, she captured an important cultural concept so often misused and misunderstood. And then she writes “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” Well, yes, of course, so why do we complicate things, losing sight of the beautiful simplicity of devotion?
I also feel like a kindred spirit when she writes about morning, and how she treasures the earliest part of the day. I’ve long been a morning person, savoring the solitude, the gentle advance of light, and the feeling of possibility that lingers in the air. Of course the peacefulness of early morning delights many creative artists … a tiny opening in the day that feels inspired and open to the many benefits and rewards of silence.
As Mary Oliver puts it …
“But dawn – dawn is a gift. Much is revealed about a person by his or her passion, or indifference, to this opening of the door of day. No one who loves dawn, and is abroad to see it, could be a stranger to me.”
Reading Oliver is like morning. Bright, captivating, inspiring. One of the more authentic authors I’ve ever read, she deftly reminds us in her poetry and prose that humans are necessarily a reflection of the natural world―there is no real separation. None at all.
In fact, you really can’t read Oliver, born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1935, without looking at many things from a fresh, thought-provoking perspective. Winner of the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award, her life’s work is impressive, to say the least. Prolific. Daring. Consistently taking her readers in brilliant new directions. Her website features her full bio, and many publications.
“May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, but useful.”
Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays
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