283. Wildness {A Meeting by Mary Oliver}

Hello there. I have been a little bit off the grid. Working through some things myself. And continuing. Do you do what I need to do to come home to myself? Including rethinking the podcast and letting it sort of show me the next. Steps in it's production. So. I am going to be doing a series on numerology. That is going to go deeper. It will explain sort of. Where it came from a little bit, but mostly how to use the numbers to look at. Oneself. I'm looking forward to that. So do stay tuned. I will have a tarot card for us each beginning of the month. And I will be doing other kinds of series and dropping other kinds of thoughts that I have through life along the way. Now. I really desire to share. Uh, random selected poem. Bye Mary Oliver. So I'm opening my book right now as we speak. As I speak. And this is the poem. That I opened to. It's called. Uh, meeting. She steps into the dark swamp where the long wait and. The secret slippery package drops to the weeds. She leans her long neck and tongues it between breaths, slack with exhaustion. And after a while it rises and becomes a creature like her, but much smaller. So now there are two. And they walked together like a dream under the trees. In early June at the edge of a field thick with pink and yellow flowers, I meet them. I can only stare. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her child leaps among the flowers, the blue of the sky falls over me like silk, the flowers burn. And I want to live my life all over again. To begin again. To be utterly. Wild. Oh, Okay. This is absolutely. Amazing as all of them. The natural world brings us. So much more into ourselves then I think for me, anything else has anyway. I love how Mary says she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen this. Animal who's just given birth. And then now there are two and. It's like every single moment. Every single. Moment. We can desire. With every part of ourselves to begin again. To live life all over again. And to be utterly. Wild. What does that even mean? I think to me, wild means to be. In and all of ourselves by and for ourselves. That's it. Every thing I do is because. I am me. That's what it means to be wild to me, I'm just me. And I'm I'm doing what. The me that is this thing in this body. Is doing. That has to be wild and to be wild. It is to be free. I think there's a misconception about wildness. And that being wildest, being like unruly and breaking rules, breaking the law, doing things that are destructive. And that's not the case. That's not wild. To be wild as to truly be free within oneself. So that. Whatever moves me. Is me. Whatever. Direction I'm taking it's because. I moved from within. From that something within. Not against anything. Not even for anything simply I'm moving and the way that I'm moving. I'm going to read that poem again. Take another, listen, it's called. A meeting. She steps into the dark swamp where the long wait and. The secret slippery package drops into the weeds. She leans her neck long and tongues that between breaths, slack with exhaustion. And after a while it rises and becomes a creature like her. But much smaller. So now there are two. And they will walk together like a dream under the trees. In early June. At the edge of a field thick with pink and yellow flowers, I meet them. I can only stare. She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Her child leaps among the flowers. The blue of the sky falls over me like silk. The flowers burn. And I want to live my life all over again. To begin again. To be utterly. Wild. Until next time I'm sending all the love. And while this. And then some more. We'll talk soon.