If you use the internet daily (as most of us do) you're constantly bombarded with click bait- or the links that you know will invariably waste your time but you click on anyway.
I tried to convince myself to love minimalism for a long time. Partly because the mess in my house seems to evolve when I'm not looking, and also because I want everything to look like a Pinterest board. It's secretly also because- despite my ability to throw things away- I'm afraid I have hoarding tendencies, and because I have an insatiable urge to control the things I cannot control. Like many others, I want to corral the wild mystery of life and transform it into something tangible and predictable- something that can be knocked off a to-do list. My mentality about life looked like this: if I'm going to try, I want to succeed, I want to be good, and goddamn it I want to do life right!
(...can you tell I'm about to be schooled by life?)
Every time I read Mary Oliver I cry.
Usually they're joyous, loving, happy tears caused by a deep resonance, an unearthing of memories, or a sudden feeling of clarity and bliss. But then sometimes they're just tears...like the words on the paper are speaking to someone I didn’t know I still knew, but remain, buried beneath the surface. Oliver's work is about connection, nature, love, and the silly peculiarities of life. I am so effected by her latest collection "Felicity" that I wanted to share a few poems that struck me as important.