Monday, September 30, 2019

Shine Your Light


Tree Light

...I am so distant from the hope of myself
in which I have goodness and discernment
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly and bow often.

Around me, the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, 'Stay a while.'
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, 'It's simple,' they say,
'and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, and be filled
with light, and to shine.'”
Mary Oliver (“When I Am Among the Trees”)

Do you get tired of reading about trees in this blog? I know you must. I do love them so, but most of all, I love Mary Oliver's poetry. My friend, Sally, posted this one on Facebook, and I'm so glad she did. I miss Mary's light in this world. We all must try to shine together to make up for one so bright not being here any more.

And she's so right (as usual) about our distance from our own sense of ourselves as a source of goodness and discernment in the world. We go around, most of us, looking for a glimmer of light from someone else—a teacher, a guru, a theologian, our therapist—you know—someone who has the right credentials. But, I don't think they hand out credentials for light—there's no Ph.D. in Light Bearing, as far as I know. We're all expected to create our own, and not only create it, but shine it around.

Mary Oliver is a perfect example of someone who did just that. She was an unpretentious person, who kept herself to herself, but saw the world in a way that she knew others needed to see. So she wrote and wrote and wrote—her light flowed out in the form of beautiful odes to creation, to birds and trees and early morning light. She wrote, I'm sure, because she had to, she couldn't do otherwise. But what a gift to share with all generations forever.

You, too, have light to shine. You may not be a guru—neither am I—but you have your own life experience, your own loves and losses, and your own failures and triumphs. And that's what creates light within us. We experience, we grapple with, and eventually, if we keep at it, we come to terms with our own life-lessons. Coming to terms is key here—and grappling. We cannot run away, or deny, or blame others and still integrate the experience enough to create a light within. We must face it, and deal with it honestly. That's where the trees come in. They provide the shade, and comfort, and grounded wisdom for us to begin to accept ourselves as something similar to them.

Being like a tree is something one can be proud of. If you trust them, as Mary Oliver did, they will whisper to you, too. “Go and shed light,” they will tell you. “You are like us, with plenty to spare.” Shine on, people!

                                                             In the Spirit,
                                                                Jane


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