The Journey

When I was going through the worst of trauma related therapy, my therapist introduced me to the poetry of Mary Oliver with this poem:


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.

The only life I could save.

This poem broke me into a thousand pieces at the time but later gave me the inspiration to start building again.


Since then there have been many, many of her poems that helped keep me afloat during rough times and I have often benefited from her sense of the divine healing power of nature.


I was saddened to learn that Ms. Oliver passed away yesterday at the age of 83.


Her words were recited to me at the end of most therapy sessions and they stay with me as part of my daily morning meditation:


"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"


What, indeed ?


Thank you, Ms. Oliver.