It took a twelve hour road trip (and home again)
ten days with family (without internet)
then six days sick (and pensive) . . .
to finally pinpoint what it is-
that thing off balance,
some irritating buzz coming from somewhere . . .
It's this blog:
What will you do with your one wild a precious life?
The huge, important question.
Maybe it has something to do with turning 36-
the question was beginning gnaw at me, raw-
my mind spinning,
keeping me awake at night.
I want to do so many things. All of them. I always have.
But here I am, at thirty six, feeling like I've not done many.
What have I done with my one wild and precious life?
What am I doing with this one. short. life?
See what I mean here? The question. It's terrifying.
And complicated and, in the middle of the night, defeating.
Ah, but let us review the poem again shall we?
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Yes this. This. Why I love this poem, Ms Oliver . . .
What I want to do with my one wild and precious life?
What do we all want, need, really, deep down . . .?
I want to pay attention
be idle and blessed
Tell me, what else should I do?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
It was a good name for a good six years.
My first clumsy, tender years within the four walls of motherhood-
the question kept me rooted, and dreaming.
But maybe it's time for a change-
a new blog for a new season of life,
one I am trying to figure out, and likely never will.
What to name it . . .?
Hmm . . . how about "idle & blessed"? Now, wouldn't these be nice words to think on in the middle of the night?
(I'll keep you posted!)