Starlings In Winter, by Mary Oliver
Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,
dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
becomes for a moment fragmented,
then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine
how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,
this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.
Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;
I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want
to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.
Here we are, at the start of another year. I thought Mary Oliver would be a good way to kick us off.
As per always, I’m avoiding resolutions as we head steadfast into 2017. Last year, I talked about finding a word to guide the year and came up with “Flow” or “Flow-t” for myself. This year I’m not landing on a word so much as I am an intention. And I think it lives in this:
“I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.”
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing.
I also recently re-read this from another one of my favorites:
Wild Songs, by Brian Andreas
I wish for you a life
Where your blood sings
With the voice of an eager, wild thing.
With a voice that says
I am here
& in this short time,
This is the song I sing
Because I can.
“With a voice that says I am here.”
I am here.
How many New Year’s Eves find us scratching our heads wondering where the heck the year has gone, realizing we’ve been sleepwalking through it- not paying attention… here, but not here. And how many January 1sts find us shrugging our shoulders and saying “well, I guess I’ll just go ahead and lose that weight this year because I can’t think of anything else to do.”
The sun came up beautifully on January 1st from the place where I was standing. It struck me as an invitation. An invitation to be here for this year, to be awake, to be alive, to be here.
I’m totally having an Ebenezer Scrooge moment, aren’t I? Throwing open the windows with glee and shouting to all who would hear: “I Haven’t Missed It!!!!!”
But that’s the way I feel. 2017—I haven’t missed it!! Hot damn, I’ve got plans and intentions for this sucker!
So, you know what? I guess I do have a word for the year after all. It’s love.
Because the best way for me to feel light and frolicsome and beautiful and fearless, the best way for me to sing the song that I can sing, is to accept the sun’s daily invitation to look up, breathe deep, and love the world all over again and all over again and all over again.
It’s 2017. What do you want from it? You have 359 opportunities to look up and accept the sun’s invitation to embrace another day… and find the song that only you are meant to sing.
2017. It’s yours for the taking. What will you do with it?
For breakfast, I had a power smoothie, a boiled egg, and a cup of coffee. Cuz, you know, it is a new year after all. 😉
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