Sitting on my shelf next to a prayer book I was given when I had my Bat Mitzvah (an ancient text for sure), is a little volume of poetry entitled Red Bird.  I pull it out when I am in need of a prayer more often than the prayer book, I must confess.  Her words about nature, love, loss, and awe, inspired not only me, but millions of her fans. Mary Oliver died this past Thursday at the age of 83.  As the rain falls outside my window this Friday morning, I am moved to reflect on her call to nature as a path to healing.

Just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate.
It doesn’t have to be blue iris, it can be weed in a vacant lot. This isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks.  
A silence in which another voice may speak.   

Mary Oliver  grew up in rural Ohio.  She endured sexual abuse and described her family as dysfunctional.  She took refuge in the neighboring fields and forests. Later in life, she moved to Provincetown, MA, where she lived for many years, finding inspiration for her poems simply in walks with her dog.  In quietly observing the life around her, her poems were a path from imagery to spirit.

Attention is the beginning of devotion.

What has always moved me personally about Mary Oliver’s words were the expression of passion and celebration of love and life, even in its pain.  I found her work comforting and her poems served as a challenge for me to look outside myself in times I was pulling inward. A cricket or a tree could be her great companion.  A master at simple imagery she created deceptively rich reflections. Nature was her great companion and she sought to inspire others to embrace its refuge. She was like a spiritual guide to snap me out of my inner neurotic obsession, befriending me with the great awe of the world.

What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
And the present is what your life is,.
And you are capable 
Of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.
So come to the pond,
or the river of your own imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
And put your lips to the world.
And live
Your life.

Mary Oliver was a great teacher to many and she will be missed.  If you have never read any of her works, I am grateful for the chance to bring her to your attention.  May her memory be for a blessing. And may her memory be for an awakened encounter with a raindrop…or a bird’s call…or whatever is right in front of us.

When it’s over, I want to say:  all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

And lastly, one of my personal favorites:

Watching A Documentary about Polar Bears Trying To Survive on The Melting Ice Flows
That God had a plan, I do not doubt. But what if His plan was, that we would do better?

After a season of indulging, combined with the fresh start of a New Year, its natural that we’re drawn to making resolutions.  Feeling lazy and bloated, it feels good to make a firm proclamation toward a specific result. But the fact that only 8% of people will actually achieve their New Year’s resolution, I am thinking this year may be a good time to reinvent my hope of a fresh start with a more flexible, balanced approach.  So this year instead of a resolution, I am shifting to the mindlfulness based practice of setting an intention.

In order to make any sustained change, we need both determination and patience.  If we are too harsh and strict, a slip up may throw us off track and lead us to resign in failure.  If we are too lenient toward our change, we let ourselves off the hook, most likely as a fear of failure.  So to be successful, a change plan must find the sweet spot balancing effort and patience. It must offer motivation and direction, but allow for growth and regrouping.  In mindfulness practice, there is the concept of setting an intention. In Latin, “intention” comes from “intendere” meaning “to turn one’s attention toward.” Our first step toward any goal is to direct our awareness in a deliberate way.  By setting an intention, we become increasingly mindful with a non-judgmental curiosity.

Intentions allow for an overarching goal with flexible execution.  They allow us to identify areas of growth, summon courage and energy for change, but in a manner of compassion and kindness to ourselves.  Intentions invite us to view our change in broader and more meaningful ways. For example, it’s common to set a resolution to lose 10 pounds.  In doing so, we become focused on the outcome on the scale and tend to ignore the process. Studies tend to show a common paradox of this approach.  The more we focus on results, the less likely we are to achieve them. Instead, research supports a more process oriented approach, such as setting an intention for better health.  In this way, we think in a broad sense of all the steps we can take, such as our diet, exercise, and other habits, that lead to success. In her mindfulness teachings, Sarah Rudell Beach writes, “the focus of our resolution should be the process – the infinite present moments in which transformation will occur – rather than the single instance of its attainment.”

Intentions involve a constant feedback loop of awareness.  They involve a beginning again that keeps us fresh and refocused.  When we fall short in our process, we can gently bring our awareness back to our intention and begin again.  And really, the best way to achieve a resolution is to bring awareness to a behavior, recognize where we drift, and begin again. By viewing our change through a  process of intention, however, rather than a set resolution, we can make our transformation with an attitude of compassion and joy rather than judgment. Intentions lend themselves to renewal…each day, each minute, each breath.