Today, by Mary Oliver

Today and every day…

thislandtheseshores

Whenever I admonish myself for not getting enough done, I think about Mary Oliver’s poem, “Today.” 

 

Today I’m flying low and I’m

not saying a word.

I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

 

The world goes on as it must,

the bees in the garden rumbling a little,

the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.

And so forth.

 

But I’m taking the day off.

Quiet as a feather.

I hardly move though really I’m traveling

a terrific distance.

 

Stillness.  One of the doors

into the temple.

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