A Settlement
by Mary Oliver
Look, it’s spring. And last year’s loose dust has turned
into this soft willingness. The wind-flowers have come
up trembling, slowly the brackens are up-lifting their
curvaceous and pale bodies. The thrushes have come
home, none less than filled with mystery, sorrow,
happiness, music, ambition.
And I am walking out into all of this with nowhere to
go and no task undertaken but to turn the pages of
this beautiful world over and over, in the world of my mind.
* * *
Therefore, dark past,
I’m about to do it.
I’m about to forgive you
for everything.
————
And the whole world does it, too… forgiving the dark past of last year’s dramas – letting go of the old in favor of what’s to come. There’s really no other choice.
Could the same be true for us? Last week’s religious holidays reminded me of the season’s imperative. What’s needing to be left behind to take seriously the journey to the freedom of my own Promised Land? Am I ready to crucify what’s needing to die for resurrection’s new life to emerge?
These are holy-days for the Earth, too. There’s hints of resurrection everywhere. It’s little wonder developing religions tagged their holidays to Earth-based ritual celebrations already in practice.
Every crocus and snowdrop and daffodil pushing up through the thawing soil is an irrepressible celebration of the season. That stiff pile of crunchy dead leaves can’t stop their genetic drive toward growth.
The other day I raked away the dead leaves from the garden. Last summer they helped to give us the oxygen we need for life, but with the autumn their usefulness had ended. Soon they’ll be compost enriching my garden’s soil and next season’s kale and carrots.
Compost is valuable stuff. Check its price at Ward’s. In digging around the tender shoots of my own growth this Spring I’ve come upon a few phrases that could be quite useful in my own personal compost heap. Phrases like "It’s so hard to….!" And "I don’t know."They’re habitual exclamations that pepper my daily discourse. I could just ignore them, but I know these tossed off comments stall my forward movement. They keep me stuck, or at least keep me from seeing the sunshine of my possibility.
Maybe you have similar thoughts or phrases you hold onto… no longer useful debris hanging around your conversation. So why don’t you try this experiment?
In the next few days begin to listen to yourself. What comes off your tongue when you’re tired? When you’ve packed a little too much into your day? Begin to notice the small negative comments that pinch out good feeling. Or, if you’re brave, ask someone you hang with to share their observations.
Which of your old favorites could stand to be tossed into the pile for composting? What old thought patterns have you outgrown, but just can’t seem to let go of? Or is there some lingering hurt ready to be forgiven and left behind?
Look with compassion on those little wet blankets that snuck into your conversation once upon a time, that are now, like last fall’s dead leaves, smothering your joy. Next Monday, April 20, we’ll share with one another these tired, no-more-useful phrases to be given away to the composting of my entry way fire – and then bring in the joy.
Like the decomposing magic of compost, let’s see what happens to our own sticky old turns of phrase when we give them some air in which to transform. Byron Katie suggests we try a turn around. Change one or two words of the old, worn-out thought into a positive. When I moan that "It’s so hard to…" I can try out "It’s not so hard to….," or even " It’s easy to…." When I turn around "I don’t know,"I’m reminded that "I do know," and often pleasantly surprised by the truth hidden there.
We’ll walk through this process together next Monday, but until then, experiment with the turn around idea. And the possibility that what you’re ready to compost can really transform into the rich soil of your soul’s next growing season.
There’s new life outside. Let’s clear away what’s hindering our own rebirth. Do you really have any other choice!