Stillness

It had been a blessing to see so much of Mary Oliver's poetry shared this week, following her death. Much has been new to me. This I saw today is apt, as I write this in my dressing gown, from my bed, which has been my resting place for the day after a second dizzy spell in a few days has warned me that I need to stop awhile.

Today
-Mary Oliver

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.

I maybe am meant to have more practice at letting ambition sleep - it's hard not to wish I was doing a raft of things - preparing for the week like I often do on a Sunday (no getting in fruit for the week or making of a wholesome soup to snack on. I have managed to put the bins out and washing on, tho, woo hoo). I've had to forego one of my favourite services of the year. I really hope I am travelling a great distance and that my body will be fully recovered for another action packed work week. Til then it's more letting go and snoozing...