grounded

Every day

I see or hear

something

that more or less

kills me

with delight,

that leaves me

like a needle

in the haystack

of light.

It was what I was born for -

to look, to listen,

to lose myself

inside this soft world -

to instruct myself

over and over

in joy,

and acclamation.

Nor am I talking

about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,

the very extravagant - 

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

how can you help

but grow wise

with such teachings

as these -

the untrimmable light

of the world,

the ocean's shine,

the prayers that are made

out of grass?

-Mary Oliver (Mindful)

We spent last few days of winter revisiting those chickens and friends and big decisions up on a mountain.  

All the conversations and walks and moments in front of a wood stove got me thinking and dreaming.  I'm wondering what contentment looks like.  Or how it feels to just know a life-direction is right.  Or how one settles into a calm and rooted existence.  

The other day on Ben Hewitt's blog I read about an older man who has lived a long life just doing what he loves.  I was struck by the way Ben described him: "...like most people who’ve figured out how they want to live their life and then actually lived it that way, he has a wonderfully grounded, low-key manner."

I think that's what I want to be when as I grow up.  Grounded and lowkey.  With a bit of that slow life filled with gratitude (see Mary Oliver poem) thrown in.  I'm certainly not there yet.