I really enjoyed reading this Mary Oliver poem. I came across it just by happen stance, as I flipped through the pages and founding myself stopping to read slowly in a section focused on mornings. Morning is definitely my favorite time of day, although I am privy to sleeping in occasionally. But most often, I enjoy waking up before or with the sun to enjoy the slowness and the stillness. The world sometimes feels groggy as I sip coffee on my porch and watch the sun rise, or as I lug my Bible into my lap for a moment of quiet and solitude. I find that I am most attentive to nature in the early day, perhaps because the distractions of the day, the noise, the hustle, and the bustle, have not yet awoken. While they sleep, I can breathe. I hear the birds singing a little louder, I notice the wind rushing through the trees with a bit more purpose. On a hot summer day, the mornings of slightly cooler weather feel like a gift for only those willing to arise and feel it. In ...
How apt it is for Mary Oliver to have written one of my favorite poems in October- a special month of the year for me. As a child, October's were filled with freezing Friday night football games and too hot cups of hot chocolate, flipping through magazines to pick the perfect Halloween costume, celebrating my sister and I's birthdays with decorations and laughs, soccer games with dew still afoot, and plenty of leaf piles. Autumn, or fall, whichever you prefer, sings of nostalgia for me. It's a place that feels safe and comfortable, and I cherish it each year because it feels like coming home and becoming young again. I recognize this juxtaposes itself with the notion that things actually age and die in the fall, but it has never mattered much to me. In my opinion, fall is growth in its own way- shedding the things of old and donning the new barren branches, that will one day sprout new buds again. I think Mary Oliver would agree in that it is growth in its own way- as she ...
This week for class, we were tasked with our first readings in Norton's Book of Nature Writing, starting with entries from the journals of Lewis and Clark, and excerpts from Luther Standing Bear's books. Although the Lewis and Clark entries were a bit difficult to read, due to the lack of punctuation and broken English, it was remarkable to hear how the two men viewed the United States as they explored the country for the first time. There is a novelty and wonder to the sights they are encountering, particularly in the description of the waterfall in the latter journal entries. I was struck by the inner turmoil the writer feels in struggling to put words to the beauty he sees, and his frustration with his words not matching the splendor of the waterfall. The writer says "I could not perhaps succeed better than penning the first impressions of the mind", reminding the reader that our rawest emotions and words are often the best descriptor of the beauty we see (...
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