friends, why did it take me so long to get my hands on our world, by mary oliver? in its pages the poet remembers and honors her beloved. something real and raw resonated here, in the words she uses to describe her love. talk about #lifegoals. i will have considered my earth mission complete if one were to think of me like this:
she "had will and wit and probably too much empathy for others; she was quick in speech and she did not suffer fools. when you knew her she was unconditionally kind. but also...you had to be brave to get to know her. she was style, and she was an old loneliness that nothing could quite wipe away; she was vastly knowledgeable about people, about books, about the mind’s emotions and the heart’s. she lived sometimes in a black box of memories and unanswerable questions, and then would come out and frolic — be feisty, and bold."
it really got me thinking about how else i would want to be remembered (and honestly, there wasn't much to add). thinking about this was a fantastic exercise in life clarification:
- she would walk into the mess with you in a heartbeat
- her home reflected the world she wished to live in: colorful, quirky, diverse, full of life and the endless possibility of transformation, safe and peaceful, even if a bit disordered on occasion.
- she stood with children and the vulnerable.
- she stood against those who harmed others, who treated others unjustly, who used others for their own advancement.
- she did not tolerate narcissists, large-scale or small, nor those who willfully looked away from examining the complexities of life.
- she cherished true belonging while maintaining comfort in the roles of loner, misfit, outsider, rebel.
- she celebrated and attended to the details, both beautiful and mundane, while never losing sight of the big picture.
- she loved art and dogs and sunsets and mountains, california wildflowers and the bracing cold fury of the pacific ocean.
- she never outgrew being read to.