Be still

I read a poem by Mary Oliver recently that has been rolling around my mind.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees 

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

     love what it loves.                         

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

First of all, I don't totally agree with the first part of the poem.  I think you should try your best to be good and if I let the soft animal of my body love what it loves, I would only eat brownies so that's not a great plan.

I do love the rest of the poem though.

I thought about it when I was pulling the dead leaves off of one of my plants.  The rhythms of nature, the sheer predictability and unpredictability can be soothing.  In a world where I can't always control what I want to control-- people, outcomes, diagnoses, wellness, results, did I mention people?-- it is nice to be reminded by nature that we can't control it either.

While I write this, rain is pelting my house.  It doesn't matter whether I want rain or not.  It doesn't matter how I feel about it in the least.  It's happening.

There's something consoling about that.

I think the world with its seasons that unfold on their own timetable without any vote, approval or control by us, is instructive.  I think Heavenly Father made a beautiful, wild and out of our control world to remind us every day, "Be still and know that I am God."