“…I do not want to be frisky, and theatrical.
I do not want to go forward in the parade of names.
I do not want to be diligent or necessary or in any way
From my mouth to God’s ear I swear it; I want only
to be a song.”
~Mary Oliver, The Return
If you don’t break your ropes while you’re alive
do you think ghosts will do it after?
A few questions:
Why is it so difficult to actually live each day the way one means to?
Why is it that I repeatedly do good work and am vilified because I’m not passive enough, not submissive enough, not “friendly” enough?* (I’m actually quite friendly, but only if you are, too.)
How is it that one can have everything one wants, and still have days during which one feels so lost and lonely?
“…but nearly is not now, and nearly is not here,
and so for now everything is clearly just the same…
what do people under the gun know?
Tell me how to hurt so it won’t show…”
*Husband would say it’s misogyny; I guess I either need to learn how to “act my gender” or become a man?
In the end, only three things matter:
How much you loved, how gently
you lived, and how gracefully you
let go of things not meant for you.
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing; even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing,
and I gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning