Mary Oliver’s poem Mindful,begins with these lines
Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
I felt that way today – killed with delight– walking with Callum along Chelsea Creek in minus 20C: crisp air on my cheeks, brilliant sunshine, blue sky, fresh snow on the hillside and, … tree shadows. On the snow. I lose myself in tree shadows on snow – as if it’s the first time I’ve ever seen them, which isn’t true, as this happens every year, and, I continue to take photos of them never tiring of their beauty. I love the fact that simple ingredients such as snow, trees and blue sky can knock me off my feet.
Here is Mary Oliver’s poem:
Mindful
Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for—
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world—
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant—
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these—
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
- Mary Oliver
