Monday, October 14, 2013

v 1 9 .

Mary Oliver | The Summer Day
How I love these words, this reminder . An ode . To live a wild + precious life . 

Were we not made to be wild hearted ?

I smile at the sound of a wild heart . A heart that isn't limited by the world around it . A heart that isn't conformed to the trends or the fads or the common cravings of surrounding individuals . A heart that isn't molded based on someone else's' needs or wants .
A heart that is free .
And spirited .
And beautiful .

I don't believe we were made to be a tame kind of people .

We were made to be people who
love fiercely
and breathe deeply
and dream largely
and think curiously
and stand in awe of the mystery and complexity of the Earth itself
and desire a greater purpose for
each day
and hour
and minute
and second
of our lives .

All too often I find my mind casting itself back into the game of comparison, wondering if I am doing this all wrong . Wondering whether my life is really all that valid when it may not look like her life or his life or her life or hers .
Wondering if it would be a better life if I did this certain something 
or lived in that place 
or knew this person 
or looked like that person .

A wild heart would seemingly lead to a wild life . 
Unassuming . Unknowing . Unraveled at times, but unafraid .

I want a heart that isn't afraid to look at a little mess and smile, recognizing the beauty in it all .

It was all unknown to me then, as I sat on that white bench on the day I finished my hike . Everything except the fact that I didn't have to know . That it was enough to trust that what I'd done was true . To understand its meaning without yet being able to say precisely what it was . . . To believe that I didn't need to reach with my bare hands anymore . To know that seeing the fish beneath the surface of the water was enough . That was everything . It was my life - like all lives, mysterious + irrevocable + sacred . So very close, so very present, so very belonging to me . How wild it was, to let it be . 
- Cheryl Strayed, Wild

So, what W I L L you do with this wild + precious life of yours ?

1 comment:

  1. Love the poem (one of my favorite poets), love the quote (obviously), and love your thoughts!


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