I’ve always been a fan of the poetry of Mary Oliver. Always seems unlikely, borders on hyperbole, as her first poem was published in 1963. Let’s say as long as I can remember admiring poetry, I remember Mary Oliver’s poems. Her beautifully simple view of life and the living of it filled her poetry, a legacy she left for us, and one that earned her a Pulitzer Prize in 1984.
I think as we age, we notice the talk around “legacy” and what it means to have been alive. Do we have a bucket list? Do we have a list of what we did that may have left the world better than we found it? Are we able to let go of the slip-ups, the missteps? None of us can know what we will be remembered for and to care about such things would colour the intent. “Dance as though no one is watching,” is good advice for just about everything we undertake, which equates to offering kindness without expecting it in return, sharing with the homeless without applause, allowing traffic to merge ahead of us without needing a grateful wave. You get the gist of it.
Many years ago, I sat having lunch with a friend and the conversation came around to taxes and the burden of such. My friend expressed her outrage that she was obligated to pay for those who “don’t.” I would have chosen the word “can’t” rather than don’t. She was a teacher and has a good pension and insisted that others plan their lives accordingly so they, too, can have a pension from a career they studied for. I was taken aback, stunned, and saddened that it is so easy to forget our privilege, so easy to take for granted our opportunity that so many others simply don’t have access to. My friend grew up in a home, like I did, with parents who believed that education was essential, parents who were able to provide food and shelter and clothing and love and safety. Not every child has a full basket and even fewer these days.
I remember hearing a report on CBC Radio some time ago that Newfoundland, one of the poorest of the have-not provinces in this country, gives more per capita than any other province. That was never more evident with Newfoundlanders’ immediate and all-in response to those in need during the September 11th crisis, for those airline passengers finding themselves diverted to a place they likely had never given any thought to, but who will now surely never forget. The generosity of Newfoundlanders did not come because the world was watching or because TV cameras were at the ready; it was their reflex reaction to others needing help. Those who have lived without know all too well poverty’s burden and are ready to extend a hand up.
I recently saw this written and cannot give credit to whom credit should go but I found these words assembled acted like a bright light switched on. “Poverty exists not because we cannot feed the poor, but because we cannot satisfy the rich.” “Growth” has always driven our politics and economy and is our measure of success despite it being unsustainable. Would “enough” be the better goal?
If you remember the poetry you read in school, many of the themes were filled with how to live a meaningful life. Dylan Thomas’ poem “Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light” is one that sticks out in my mind.
Maria Popova dedicated an entire essay to the subject of how not to waste this life we have been given. She spins an explanation examining the words of several writers, one of which was Nathaniel Hawthorne, whom I paraphrase in his advice for us to not follow the crowd, not to let fear or hesitation keep us from trying. It is true that what feeds our spirit to provide the world with “art or activism, often appears on the surface as wasted time,” Maria writes. “It is good to live as if the world were Heaven,” Hawthorne urged.
Mary Oliver challenged us in one of her poems with the question “what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.” Ahh, therein lies the quandary, the options limited only by our courage.
wendistewart@live.ca
