Evidence by Mary Oliver from Evidence (Beacon Press)
Where do I live? If I had no address, as many people
do not, I could nevertheless say that I lived in the
same town as the lilies of the field, and the still
waters.
Spring, and all through the neighborhood now there are
strong men tending flowers.
Beauty without purpose is beauty without virtue. But
all beautiful things, inherently, have this function -
to excite the viewers toward sublime thought. Glory
to the world, that good teacher.
Among the swans there is none called the least, or
the greatest.
I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in
singing, especially when singing is not necessarily
prescribed.
As for the body, it is solid and strong and curious
and full of detail; it wants to polish itself; it
wants to love another body; it is the only vessel in
the world that can hold, in a mix of power and
sweetness: words, song, gesture, passion, ideas,
ingenuity, devotion, merriment, vanity, and virtue.
Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.
Where do I live? If I had no address, as many people
do not, I could nevertheless say that I lived in the
same town as the lilies of the field, and the still
waters.
Spring, and all through the neighborhood now there are
strong men tending flowers.
Beauty without purpose is beauty without virtue. But
all beautiful things, inherently, have this function -
to excite the viewers toward sublime thought. Glory
to the world, that good teacher.
Among the swans there is none called the least, or
the greatest.
I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in
singing, especially when singing is not necessarily
prescribed.
As for the body, it is solid and strong and curious
and full of detail; it wants to polish itself; it
wants to love another body; it is the only vessel in
the world that can hold, in a mix of power and
sweetness: words, song, gesture, passion, ideas,
ingenuity, devotion, merriment, vanity, and virtue.
Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.
As of this morning, I've begun a new spiritual practice: believing six impossible things before breakfast.
I'm not sure how the idea actually came to me. One minute I was writing about how blah and uninspired I feel and the next I was channeling the White Queen.
I confess I haven't read any of Lewis Carroll's Alice books in their entirety (although stay tuned for a future Carpe Libris summer edition in which I plan on expanding my horizons and reading Alice in lieu of the usual Mary Poppins this year) so I don't know if the White Queen is a good spiritual teacher or not. But I do know that setting aside half an hour a day for a spiritual practice-- be it meditation, journaling, yoga, or even stretching my imagination to entertain new possibilities-- is good.
Lately I've felt constrained by perceived impossibilities-- doors appear to be locked, shut, or too small and difficult to fit through so I don't bother trying. I have been feeling not unlike this picture of Alice yet I resigned myself to the situation rather than looking for a way out. This feeling of confinement started to impact the choices I made on a daily basis and this morning I finally realized I was feeling more than a little cramped.
Choosing to spend some time each day believing-- or at least practicing believing-- that there are other choices, other possibilities, may not change reality but it likely will change my perception of reality. It's kind of like prayer. After many years of study and practice I've come to understand that the power of prayer isn't that it changes or influences God or a specific situation, the real power of prayer is that it changes me. And that's an impossibility worth believing in.
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