It Is a Serious Thing
It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world.
This beautiful line comes from Mary Oliver’s poem “Invitation.”
Oliver suggests we must take a moment out of our busy and important day to linger and notice goldfinches in a field of thistles. The finches are in a musical battle, seeing who can sing the highest and the lowest.
She says the birds “strive melodiously not for your sake and not for mine and not for the sake of winning but for sheer delight and gratitude.”
It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world, isn't it?
The world is broken right now in some way, right?
Whether you see the world as broken because of the economy or climate change or immigration or collapsing systems or war or mental health or who’s in charge, most of us agree on one thing right now: There are some fractures here.
Therefore, it is quite a serious thing to be alive on this fresh morning.
And we have an important invitation ahead.
That invitation is to understand—no matter which side of the aisle you are on—what do we do now? Where do we go from here? And how do we need to show up through it?
Ultimately, we all want the same things.
We want to be prosperous. We want to be healthy. We want to have the resources that we need. We want our families to be safe and have opportunity. We want to be at peace. We want to experience joy.
So, what will you do, as Oliver says, with your one wild and precious life? How will you respond to this invitation?
There are a few things I am going to do.
1) I am saying yes to community. These are not the times to isolate or hide away. I am going to find community where ever I can. I will say hello to everyone I meet. I will smile, look in their eyes, and think to myself, “Hello there, human beings. I see you. I appreciate that you have crossed my path today, that we are here. I know life is hard. But here we are in this crazy world together."
2) I am calibrating the most important tool I have—my physical body. I can’t afford not to be as strong as I can be. I will identify where I am in and out of alignment in this only instrument I have. I will do what I need to feel grounded and whole and prepared to serve my purpose. And I will spend as much time in the natural world as I can, understanding there are systems and forces greater than all of this.
3) I am spending my time on meaningful things. This means putting my best energy where it needs to go. I will focus on writing over social media, volunteering over binge-watching, time with friends over time reading the news. Asking myself in every moment, “Is what I am doing now raising the collective vibration or lowering it?“ And, I am not going to worry too much about whether I know exactly what the best next thing is. I am going to just show up.
4) I am going to freely spread compassion. I read an article about a team that spends time before meetings picturing who they are about to see and actively sending them compassion. They wish for things like “may you be joyful “ and “may you be free from anxiety.” I am going to freely practice compassion showers—especially on those I might otherwise tend to scorn, judge, or not wish well.
5) Finally, I will look in the mirror. I will self-manage. I will not sink into negativity and brokenness. I will not spend my time complaining about or resisting where we are. Gossiping, complaining, being snarky, and contempt all drop the vibration. I will invest my energy into raising my own vibration and creating alignment through meditation, prayer, and doing good work in the world.
We need to be more grounded than ever in who we are in these times.
Oliver closes her poem suggesting that taking the time to listen to the goldfinches and to their ridiculous performance could be quite lovely. It matters. The poem closes with:
“It could mean something.
It could mean everything.
It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:
You must change your life.”
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