Saturday September 3, 2016
from a poem by Mary Oliver
When you look out on the world that exists without you but for you
you start to see the things that fit you that are you that are waiting for you.
I am in awe of myself.
I am so vast. I have been life inside life inside life and now I have rippled past what I even knew I could be.
Vast. It is a dream. And yet it aches. This expansiveness. How I’ve yearned for it. And now that it is asking very sweetly if I can make room in my life inside my life inside my life for it, I feel
unsteady. Uneasy. Unprepared. Unworthy.
How long can a part of me frighten me? How long do I run from the big voices? What if they wail so loud only because they are trying to lead me back to myself? I see the world.
I see my wild.
It is not calmed by the breeze, but charged by it. I will carry myself across the wind like a baby bird with strong wings. Seeing this place as the echo of my heart.
And it is so big.
And I am so big.