Tag: Mary Oliver
A simple invocation amid the world’s frenzy: that we maintain the quiet discipline of seeking delight hiding in plain sight.
Life’s tragedies can make the road ahead seem like a barren vista. But our losses can also clear space for courageous new beginnings.
After an exchange with an angry man, a poem about a woodland encounter bestows unexpected guidance — about how acknowledging the spaces we share can be what closes the gaps between us.
Even at our most broken and scattered, Mary Oliver seems to say, we can uncover new wholeness by examining each shattered piece.
Compassion is a virtue, but do we direct it inward as much as outward? Parker Palmer gleans wisdom from Mary Oliver on mending ourselves so that we might be better companions to loved ones in need.
To soothe spiritual aches and exult in the bittersweetness of being in the world — a few lines of poetry from beloved voices, from Mary Oliver to Marie Howe.
Encouragement from the far shore of life to live fully into the miracle of our existence, with purpose and awe at every waking moment.
Essential celebrations of the strength and beauty that surround us, from new life and community to the poetry of words and images.
An invocation for gratitude — for the open spaces around us, for the quiet resilience of nature, and for the power of vulnerability to open us to new possibilities.
Parker Palmer offers up a remedy for feeling adrift: embracing surprise, and taking on sense of reverence to mystery.
Learning from our mistakes doesn’t mean we have to obsess over our failures. Parker Palmer and Mary Oliver on the space nature provides for catharsis, so that we can move on to self-forgiveness.
Recent events in the life of the world have made it challenging to engage in trust and hope. Parker Palmer turns to another type of knowing that leads to grace.
A potpourri of thinking on joy, letting suffering speak, writing poetry, and the wisdom of children — as curated by Trent Gilliss.
The highly acclaimed and beloved poet Mary Oliver reads her four-part poem, “The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac,” — a poem in which she explores death, purpose, and the call to live after being diagnosed with lung cancer several years ago.
Cynicism beckons to us with ease at times. But how do we remain open to the good within and around us? A reminder to keep hope alive when the demon inside us bites down. And, lyrical lines from Mary Oliver!
In a rare interview with the master poet, she recites her classic poem — and tells the story of how “Wild Geese” came into being. It might surprise you.
Darkness draws out our deep-down depths. And, in the northern hemisphere, December’s darkness invites us inward. A lesson in wonder, an elegy for light, and a call to pay attention for the unbroken darkness of a December night.
In a world of fomenting darkness, a poem calls us to be beacons of light in the shadow for others to be guided by.
For Thanksgiving, Parker Palmer asks us to find new ways to be filled with gratitude and praise. It’s in the gratitude for the ground we stand on, the blessing of togetherness, and the kindness of strangers, that we remember our work is loving the world.
Sometimes the framing question needs to be, well, questioned. A “clearness committee” helps our columnist find a way of asking a transformative question instead of a question of loss.
What is the autobiography of your voice? An invitation to write the story of your voice and allow yourself to be surprised.
Highlights of some of the most heartening work our executive editor has read this past week, including Tara Mohr’s advice to women on taking in criticism, seeing the sacred in the mundane, engaging our prophets, and a behind-the-scenes glimpse into photos we chose.
Our executive editor’s weekly missive, including a smart testimony on the value of work, a Mary Oliver poem on suffering and joy, a call for headlines that reflect the fullness of the world, and a stunning body of paintings from Rabindranath Tagore.
Parker Palmer celebrates the act of finding clarity in one’s life through the poetry of Mary Oliver and listening to the trees.
The best of the week — including night music from Minnesota loons, our Webby speech, a cheeky take on summer fashion, unexpected advice on trusting one’s creative instincts, and a profound story from a late civil rights veteran.
As you read this poem, Parker Palmer asks us to ponder a simple question: “How, then, shall I live?”
The best of the week — including an invitation to communal song, forest music from Schumann, words of gratitude and grace from Mary Oliver, and the manifold gifts of a storyteller.
Parker Palmer turns to a famous Mary Oliver poem to remind him to be grateful for the “family of things.”