There is a Mary Oliver poem that I think about a lot, but I don’t actually remember the words. I think it’sWild Geese, the most quoted M.O. poem of all time.
It starts with “You do not have to be good.” As an only child from the mountains of North Carolina who grew up UltraChristian, I’ve spent many of the minutes I’ve been alive, convinced that I have to be good.
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Even now, I spend a lot of time thinking about what I ought to be.
I spend a lot of time worrying about whether or not I measure up to those expectations.
I don’t remember what the poem says because the first line releases me from some part of myself that acts as judge and jury, a part of myself that keeps me afraid that I might be bad.
I don’t remember what the poem says from there because I’m busy writing my version. I am no Mary Oliver, but this version has rattled around in my head for about a month, and I thought I’d pen it down.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to hold to expectations that past versions of yourself have set for you.
You can and will change your mind, and then you can change it again. That’s all part of the dance.
You can release yourself from the bonds put into place by trauma and by the circ*mstances of your youth. You can work to heal those things every day; still, some days, it won’t feel like enough.
You do not have to pretend you are small in any way, shape, or form. You aren’t, and you never will be. You are significant, bright, brilliant, and boisterous, and so many people have told you that you light up any room you step into that you have started to believe it. There’s nothing and no one worth dulling the shine given to you by God or something else divine.
You do not have to keep yourself from crying. You’re welcome to cry anytime and anywhere. The world is your fainting couch; let the water flow from your eyes. If you don’t, you’ll give yourself a headache—or throw up—or give yourself a headache that makes you throw up. It’s not worth it.
You do not have to pretend you’re not angry all the time. The world is infuriating. The circ*mstances are infuriating. You can be sweet, and kind, and bright, and also be pissed off.
You do not have to accept it, whatever it is. You can say, as loudly as you’d like, that you’re unhappy with it and would like it to change.
You are not as fragile as you’ve been led to believe.
You have more time than it feels like you have.
You are stronger and more determined than anyone ever told you could be.
After writing this all down, I decided to go back to read the Mary Oliver poem, which is indeed Wild Geese. However, it isn’t related to my feelings on it at all. When I go back to read it, I realize my mind took the first line and ran with it with the tenacity of a girl who has been told her whole life she has to be good to be valuable.
I’ve been trying really hard lately. I’ve been building something again, an old song and dance that I’m almost too familiar with. I’ve been pushing myself with my photo work, and my writing, and traveling a lot, too. I spent 40+ hours in a car over the past week. I’m home again now for just over a week before getting back in a car again. It’s an interesting season, one that has been deeply good, and deeply fulfilling. There are no ‘buts’ here. It has been glorious, my cup full to the brim, and I am also tired. A piece I published two weeks ago was incredibly interesting and fun to write, and it also required a lot of editing. When my husband Tucker read it he told me first that he loved it, but he reminded me that I could also publish things that felt easy and from the heart. That’s how we got here. I scribbled this down after a shower last week while I was in Chicago, on a night where all my friends went out and I stayed in. It felt matter of fact, and effortless to write those words to myself and originally I just wanted to write it and print it out for above my desk. Instead, I thought it might be fun to send it to you too.
Here are some other poems by Mary Oliver that I love a great deal.
If you’ve never heard Oliver speak, then that means I have the joy of pointing you to her episode of On Being with Krista Tippett. Everything she gave us is such a gift.
And while we’re at it, and since this has turned into my own personal love letter to her, my favorite collection is Upstream.
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