Your One Wild and Precious Life

The choices are infinite— how much of ourselves we invest in our work, our families, friendships, and communities, and our individual personhoods. There's so much to be responsible to, so much to fit in. 

The crush of life has been real this week, so I look to Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Mary Oliver's words for a little weekend reorientation. 

        The Summer Day 

        Who made the world?

        Who made the swan, and the black bear?

        Who made the grasshopper?

        This grasshopper, I mean-

        the one who has flung herself out of the grass, 

        the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

        who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down- 

        who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

        Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

        Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

        I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

        I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

        into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

        how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

        which is what I have been doing all day.

        Tell me, what else should I have done?

        Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

        Tell me, what is it you plan to do

        with your one wild and precious life?

       ~Mary Oliver

So this morning, from my bed, I choose to pay attention to an adorable young couple— brown little wrens— establish residency in the birdhouse outside the window. I cheer them on as they push each fine twig through the little opening, sometimes dropping it and having to start over. They stop every now and then to assess their effort, just like we do when working on a project. This is charming, and infinitely relaxing.

I also chose to notice tastes today. Too many meals this week have been hurried, and now I'm going to pay attention to every sip and bite. The coffee is dark, toasty and bitter. If I really pay attention, there's a bite of lemon peel and the aroma of burnt earth, too.

The tender, meaty leaves of two oversized artichokes slide between our teeth. The leaves are dipped in garlic confit mashed into its own luscious golden olive oil.

We slowly work our way to the heart, a meal in itself.

Between bites, we sip one of my unsurpassed favorite wines — Montagu Chardonnay. This is a 2017 Charles Heintz Vineyard beauty from the Sonoma Coast, but each of the Montagu Chardonnay's bears a similar gorgeous quality. Winemaker Weston Eidson brings incomparable skill to each of his fine wines; his touch with Chardonnay is simply genius. Flavors of browned-butter biscuit, lemon curd, a whisper of tropical fruit, and flinty minerality carry through with a perfect balance of brightness and a round, lush mouthfeel. Its complexity gives my mind a lot of places to explore, offering everything I need for a day of intentional noticing.

So, I thank Mary Oliver for nudging my choice to use this day of my one wild and precious life to reorient to the sensory world. To be "idle and blessed"— connecting myself to nature, noticing it's offerings in an intimate way— enhances and relaxes my individual personhood so that I can be my best for my family, friends, community, and work in the days to come.

Tell me, friend. What do you plan to do with this day of your wild and precious life?

The Might Quinn plays in the field.