“Learning to be Astonished”*

“Are my boots old?  Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect?  Let me
Keep my mind on what matters,
Which is my work,
Which is mostly—standing still and
Learning to be astonished.”

Oh.
You guys.
I read these words
Over and over.

Tears brim.

Bless Mary Oliver.
How does she know me so deeply?

How is it that my wild perfectionism continues to drive me away from the moment?

How is it that we think we should be more together?  More healed? More whole? More sober?

Yes—I admit—I am nowhere near any part of perfect.  Not even.
Not a sliver.
Not this week.
Not this moment.
Not—ever.

I am perfectly imperfect.

Do you identify?

Why would we even think we should be somewhere beside where we are?

And Mary, you got me on this one—
I’m here to say, yep, I am no longer young.
Not even close.

Remarkably to me, I am now (and how did this happen?) seventy years old.  Although I feel both 12 and 192 at the same moment.

How do I know myself as seventy?

I don’t know.

How do you know yourself at your age?

Let’s look to Mary—she gives us a few powerful messages about how to be who we really are.

I know myself by living into Mary’s reminders,
To stand still,
To remember what’s important,
To learn to be astonished.

Standing still, she says.

Stop figuring it out, stop working so hard at all if it.
Stop working so hard when not working at all.
Slowing down.
Breathing and relaxing.
Savoring, 
Tasting fully the moment
With full-bellied
Breath.

I know myself by standing still.

Keep my mind on what matters, she says.
What matters is clearly not me, not my mind’s tumbling narrative of the moment, the Great Drama of Me building steam in my mind.

What matters is
being there with another,
feeling the sun on my face,
hearing the crunching leaves
beneath my feet,
smelling the fall
as she opens her arms
To us.

I know myself by keeping my mind of what matters.

Learning to be astonished, she says.
Seeing the beauty
In the sunrise,
Moving my body
To the rhythms of the wind,
Allowing myself
To submerge fully
Into bath
Bubbles 
A’flying.
Feeling my guitar
Singing comfort
Into
The depths
Of me.

I know myself by learning to be astonished.

And here is Mary Oliver, reading a poem and being interviewed by NPR’s Rachel Martin in 2013.  It’s a six-minute gift to spend time, to talk of prayer, poetry, and our glorious earth.

 

 

 

 

 

To stand still,
To remember what’s important,
To learn to be astonished.

Dear Friends,

So—how about you?  Following Mary’s three-fold suggestions, how do you keep your mind of what matters?  What does that look like? And secondly, how do you stand still? What’s your practice of standing still?  And so importantly, what astonishes you? What takes away your breath? What reminds you that everything is exactly and perfectly right, in this moment, no matter what is happening?

Consider.  Contemplate.  And dear friends, practice.  Let us practice with wildly perfect imperfection.

Please do send on all messages.  I am aruni@rnetworx.com

Autumn blessings,
Aruni