It is the new year, again. Much has been said about the one just passed, and some ideas about the one to come– but this morning I woke up to the new year with Mary Oliver's poem, Today. I just want to listen for this whole day, and see what happens.
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.
Many blessings on your new year! I'd love to hear from you.
(Recommended reading: The Way of Silence, Brother David Steindl-Rast)