Archive for the ‘Mary Oliver’ Category

Mary Oliver’s transcendent experience At the Lake, put into words, might leave you breathless

May 27, 2015

At the Lake

A fish leaps like a black pin — then — when the starlight strikes its side —

like a silver pin. In an instant the fish’s spine alters the fierce line of rising

and it curls a little — the head, like scalloped tin, plunges back, and it’s gone.

This is, I think, what holiness is: the natural world, where every moment is full

of the passion to keep moving. Inside every mind there’s a hermit’s cave full of light,

full of snow, full of concentration. I’ve knelt there, and so have you,

hanging on to what you love, to what is lovely. The lake’s

shining sheets don’t make a ripple now, and the stars are going off to their blue sleep,

but the words are in place — and the fish leaps, and leaps again from the black plush of the poem, that breathless space.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(White Pine)

Rolf Erickson’s Mirror Lake creates a cosmic connection for the reader.

Enjoy these other lovely poems by Mary Oliver: Summer Day, Varanasi, Praying, Wild Geese, Sunrise, White Owl Flies Into And Out Of The Field, The Journey, One, The Loon, and When Death Comes, which was included in her obituary Jan 17, 2019.

See this remembrance of Mary Oliver (1935-2019) and her astonishing poetry, with links to articles, interviews, and readings, as well as more of her favorite poems I’ve loved and posted over the years.

— Written and compiled (citing sources) by Ken Chawkin for The Uncarved Blog.

Mary Oliver’s Summer Day is filled with wonder

June 23, 2014

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean–
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down,
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
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?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

~ Mary Oliver ~

(New and Selected Poems, Volume I)

The question that Mary Oliver asks her readers at the end of this poem reminds me of the ones she asks at the end of her Swan poem. 

Related: Mary Oliver’s poem, Praying, is a lesson on attention, receptivity, listening and writing, and Mary Oliver’s transcendent experience At the Lake, put into words, might leave you breathless.

Other poems: The Journey by Mary Oliver | Wild Geese by Mary Oliver, photo by Ken West | Varanasi by Mary Oliver in A Thousand Mornings.

See this remembrance of Mary Oliver with links to more of her poems.

Varanasi by Mary Oliver in A Thousand Mornings

March 16, 2013

I previously posted Mary Oliver’s poem, Praying, and Philip Goldberg emailed me to say that someone recently showed him the last poem in her new collection (A Thousand Mornings). He said, “It’s called ‘Varanasi,’ and it’s exquisite.” I started looking for it and found the poem posted by another poet, Bob Arnold, on his website. After reading it I agreed – it’s stunning! That’s why I’m posting it here for you to enjoy. I also came across a musical video of the poem with images from the Ganges. After you’ve read the poem, see Diane Walker’s poetic reaction to it below. But take a break from this busy introduction, and then enjoy the enlightened peaceful simplicity of Mary Oliver’s visit to Varanasi.

VARANASI

Early in the morning we crossed the ghat,

where fires were still smoldering,

and gazed, with our Western minds, into the Ganges.

A woman was standing in the river up to her waist;

she was lifting handfuls of water and spilling it

over her body, slowly and many times,

as if until there came some moment

of inner satisfaction between her own life and the river’s.

Then she dipped a vessel she had brought with her

and carried it filled with water back across the ghat,

no doubt to refresh some shrine near where she lives,

for this is the holy city of Shiva, maker

of the world, and this is his river.

I can’t say much more, except that it all happened

in silence and peaceful simplicity, and something that felt

like that bliss of a certainty and a life lived

in accordance with that certainty.

I must remember this, I thought, as we fly back

to America.

Pray God I remember this.

_______________________

Mary Oliver
A Thousand Mornings
(Penguin, 2012)

Now read this beautiful poetic reaction to the poem, Mary Oliver’s Varanasi, that Diane Walker, a contemplative photographer, posted on her website.

Among the NPR Poetry series is this interview ‘A Thousand Mornings’ With Poet Mary Oliver. You can also read the transcript here. I especially love this remark she makes about poetry:

“One thing I do know is that poetry, to be understood, must be clear. It mustn’t be fancy. I have the feeling that a lot of poets writing now are – they sort of tap dance through it. I always feel that whatever isn’t necessary shouldn’t be in a poem.”

Enjoy this wonderful Maria Shriver Interview With Mary Oliver.

See this remembrance of Mary Oliver with links to more of her poems.

Speaking of another famous American visiting the Ganges, see Prudence Farrow — subject of the Beatles song Dear Prudence — visits India’s Kumbh Mela.

Mary Oliver’s poem, Praying, is a lesson on attention, receptivity, listening and writing

March 14, 2013

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Thirst)

Another example of this theme is her poem, Mindful, in this later post: Attentive to and delighting in her surroundings, Mary Oliver lived a life writing astonishing poetry.

An inspiration for a poem came to me from such receptivity to a tree. The first words entered my mind while admiring it. I wrote them down, and the next morning, I rewrote them as a stanza, and then the sequential stanzas naturally followed, reiterating what Mary Oliver describes. It was as if I was given a creative seed and it sprouted. This gift from the tree was much appreciated. I later called it Being in Nature. Its sequel, trees, was about the nature of trees, and what we can learn from them. Another poem once came to me from a rock with a sense of humor. You can read RIVER ROCK SPEAKS in my Vancouver Park Poems.

An early encounter with nature inspired my creativity. It turned into my first published poem, which won an award: ODE TO THE ARTIST, Sketching Lotus Pads at Round Prairie Park.

Her poem also reminds me of The nurturing effect of rainwater in Mary Oliver’s poems Lingering In Happiness At Blackwater Pond and William Stafford’s poem, B.C., which I later added.

Read about Mary Oliver (1935-2019) and her astonishing poetry in this memorial acknowledgment to her poetic legacy. It contains links to articles, interviews, and poetry readings, as well as many of her favorite poems I’ve loved and posted over the years.

— Written and compiled (citing sources) by Ken Chawkin for The Uncarved Blog.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver, photo by Ken West

November 14, 2011

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

—Mary Oliver

From Dream Work published by Atlantic Monthly Press
 

This photo of a family of Canadian Geese was taken by Ken West Iowa Landscape and Nature Photography. Ken West and his unique landscape photographs are featured on IPTV show Iowa Outdoors.

For more on Mary Oliver see The Journey by Mary Oliver, with links to other poems and an interview with Maria Shriver.

Listen to Mary Oliver read “Wild Geese” for The On Being Project. This poem is featured in Mary Oliver’s extraordinary conversation with Krista Tippett—one of the few in-depth interviews she gave in her lifetime: “I got saved by the beauty of the world.” She describes her creative process On Being: Listening to the World. 

Mary Oliver Reads Wild Geese (14:36) from A Thousand Mornings (1986) at the 92nd St Y, New York in 2012. 

A beautiful soundtrack was later added to her reciting this poem and posted on Instagram by coffee_with_keats.

Mary Oliver’s poem, Swan, asks us if we see, hear, and feel what she does, drawing rich references to the beautiful aspects of a swan, culminating in two powerful questions.

Mary Oliver’s poem, Mockingbirds, teaches us how to listen, and experience the wonders around us.

See this remembrance of Mary Oliver with links to more of her poems.

The Journey by Mary Oliver

April 3, 2011

THE JOURNEY

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver (Dream Work)

During a poetry reading at the 92nd Street Y for her new poetry book, A Thousand Mornings, Mary OIiver read The Journey (18:10), as well as some of her other well-known poems.

Read: Maria Shriver Interviews the Famously Private Poet Mary Oliver.

Others: Five A.M. in the Pinewoods (House of Light) Mindful (Why I Wake Early)

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver, photo by Ken West

See It Is I Who Must Begin by Václav Havel. It shares a similar sentiment.

See this remembrance of Mary Oliver with links to more of her poems.

Being in Nature—a gift from a tree

October 20, 2010

We often hear about the benefits of being in nature. I remembered an experience I had with a tree when I went for a winter walk with a friend on the University Endowment Lands in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada during the mid-1990s.

I stopped in front of a particular tree to admire its intricate bark structure up close. I felt a ray of loving attention come from the tree into my heart-mind with these words: “the realness of natural things, the nearness of you.” It was an unexpected intimate experience and I quickly wrote the words down for further exploration. The next morning, I rewrote them as a two-line stanza, and then sequential stanzas naturally unfolded sharing its wisdom. It was as if I had been given a creative seed and it sprouted into a poem.

This gift from the tree was much appreciated. The experience reiterated what Mary Oliver described in her poem, Praying. It was a “doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.” It also reminded me of what Mary Oliver told Krista Tippett in an interview, that attention is the beginning of devotion.

I later titled the poem Being in Nature, implying a double meaning for the word, being, from both sides of the experience. Its sequel, trees, was about the nature of trees, and what we can learn from them.

Being in Nature
a gift from a tree

The Realness of Natural Things
The nearness of you

The Beauty that Nature Brings
When seeing is true

The Silence that Inward Sings
When hearing is clear

The Harmony Between all Beings
It exists right here!

© Ken Chawkin

More poems about trees

See trees—a poem about the nature of trees, a sequel to Being in Nature—a gift from a tree. Both written mid-1990′s during winter in Vancouver, BC. What Do Trees Do? Something to think about was written when I was living in North Vancouver.

CRYSTAL MORNING was written in Fairfield, Iowa in the late 1980s.

Pine Cone Trees was written in Houston, Texas in the mid-1990s.

Willow Tree – a tanka – from a tree’s perspective followed by Friendship – another tree tanka were written in May and August 2010, years after I had returned to Fairfield, Iowa.

See Mary Oliver’s poem, Praying, is a lesson on attention, receptivity, listening and writing.

An early encounter with nature inspired my creativity. It turned into my first published poem, which won an award: ODE TO THE ARTIST, Sketching Lotus Pads at Round Prairie Park.

UPDATE: Reading “Being in Nature” on Let Your Heart Sing

I read ‘Being in Nature: A Gift from a Tree’ on ‘Let Your Heart Sing’ radio show #93: “John Stein’s Interview + Environmental Songs.” The poem completed that show, which first aired during the last week of May 2019.

Sheila Moschen created and hosted a series of 108 shows for KHOE World Radio, 90.5 FM, which air Wednesdays at 1 & 7 PM. The station broadcasts and streams from the campus of Maharishi International University in Fairfield, Iowa.

Sheila said 90 of her “Let Your Heart Sing” shows are on YouTube, and 68 of them include photos of the singers. You can hear me read my poem, with visuals, starting at 30:53.

New addition: “The first line is the DNA of the poem.” — Billy Collins

Years later I read about this notion of how a line of poetry can come to you and develop into a poem. Billy Collins explained this to George Plimpton in an interview for The Paris Review’s The Art of Poetry No. 83. He said: “I think what gets a poem going is an initiating line. ….. I can tell that the line wants to continue. If it does, I can feel a sense of momentum—the poem finds a reason for continuing. The first line is the DNA of the poem; the rest of the poem is constructed out of that first line. The first few lines keep giving birth to more and more lines.”

I certainly found that to be the case in writing down Being in Nature, especially since I was open and innocently receptive to what was unexpectedly, surprisingly, being given, and which later gave birth to subsequent stanzas, the whole poem. 

Mary Oliver and Billy Collins each approach writing a poem from their own perspective. I found both explanations of their experiences truthful, a confirmation of my own. They are two different, but valid angles on the same subject, of how a poem is written and comes into being.

For more on ‘George Plimpton interviewed Billy Collins for The Paris Review’, see the second half of Billy Collins discusses the value of getting to the end of a poem and what can happen afterwards. Also see this article Billy Collins wrote In Memoriam for The Paris Review about Mary Oliver, recalling a time they gave a poetry reading together: When Mary Oliver Signed Books. (PDF) I also wrote a memorial piece after I discovered she had left us: RIP: Mary Oliver. Thank you for sharing your poetic gifts with us. They are a national treasure!

— Written and compiled (citing sources) by Ken Chawkin for The Uncarved Blog.