#sparkchamber 091123 — Mary Oliver
One day after what would have been her 88th birthday, #sparkchamber spotlights Mary Oliver, an ecstatic poet whose work expresses deep communion with the natural world — a connection between soul and landscape. The beating heart of her poetry reflects nature as a springboard to the divine, often explicitly forming her poems as prayers, even if unconventional ones “Beginning with her first book in 1963, Mary Oliver’s poetry has been a touchstone for understanding our world and ourselves. She described her work as loving the world. Her poems capture the human spirit and nature’s complexity with wonder and awe. Starting with an openness to the teachings contained in the smallest of moments, Mary Oliver is a determined explorer of the mysteries of our daily experience.”
Praying by Mary Oliver — from Thirst © Beacon Press, 2007
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.
Born and raised in Maple Hill Heights, a suburb of Cleveland, Ohio, “she would retreat from a difficult home to the nearby woods, where she would build huts of sticks and grass and write poems.” In a wonderful interview with the Christian Science Monitor in 1992, Oliver commented on growing up in Ohio, saying, “It was pastoral, it was nice, it was an extended family. I don’t know why I felt such an affinity with the natural world except that it was available to me, that’s the first thing. It was right there. And for whatever reasons, I felt those first important connections, those first experiences being made with the natural world rather than with the social world.”
How I Go Into the Woods — from Swan © Beacon Press, 2012
Ordinarily I go to the woods alone,
with not a single friend,
for they are all smilers and talkers
and therefore unsuitable.
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree.
I have my ways of praying,
as you no doubt have yours.
Besides, when I am alone
I can become invisible.
I can sit on the top of a dune
as motionless as an uprise of weeds,
until the foxes run by unconcerned
I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.
If you have ever gone to the woods with me,
I must love you very much.
“She attended both Ohio State University and Vassar College, but did not receive a degree from either institution. As a young poet, Oliver was deeply influenced by Edna St. Vincent Millay and briefly lived in Millay’s home, helping Norma Millay organize her sister’s papers. Oliver is notoriously reticent about her private life, but it was during this period that she met her long-time partner, Molly Malone Cook. The couple moved to Provincetown, Massachusetts, and the surrounding Cape Cod landscape has had a marked influence on Oliver’s work.”
Coming Home — from Dream Work © Mary Oliver, 1986
When we are driving in the dark,
on the long road to Provincetown,
when we are weary,
when the buildings and the scrub pines lose their familiar look,
I imagine us rising from the speeding car.
I imagine us seeing everything from another place —
the top of one of the pale dunes, or the deep and nameless
fields of the sea.
And what we see is a world that cannot cherish us,
but which we cherish.
And what we see is our life moving like that
along the dark edges of everything,
headlights sweeping the blackness,
believing in a thousand fragile and unprovable things.
Looking out for sorrow,
slowing down for happiness,
making all the right turns
right down to the thumping barriers to the sea,
the swirling waves,
the narrow streets, the houses,
the past, the future,
the doorway that belongs
to you and me.
A prolific writer, Oliver routinely published a new book every year or two, as well as compilations from time to time. Where to even begin? You could start here: Poemtopia’s choice of her 10 best poems.
And as we stand at the start of a new week, a little prayerful advice from the enchanting birthday sage: Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.
Editor’s note: Typically when we craft a tribute post, we offer one quote as a response to each of the four creative-process questions. With Mary Oliver, we simply couldn’t limit ourselves to just one! Too much magic.
1.] Where do ideas come from?
This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness
I want to believe I am looking into the white fire of a great mystery
Sometimes breaking the rules is extending the rules
2.] What is the itch you are scratching?
Maybe the desire to make something beautiful is the piece of God that is inside each of us.
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work
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
Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers
3.] Early bird or night owl? Tortoise or hare?
There are things you can’t reach; but you can reach out to them, and all day long
Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light
I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed.
And to tell the truth I don’t want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I don’t want to sell my life for money, I don’t even want to come in out of the rain.
For how many years have you gone through the house, shutting the windows, while the rain was still five miles away.
4.] How do you know when you are done?
Maybe death isn’t darkness, after all
Maybe our world will grow kinder eventually
In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall
Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed
