Preparing to lead our meditation group this morning, I stumbled upon a poem by Mary Oliver, "Mindful," that I had not read before. I'll put it below, in addition to an excerpt from her more familiar poem, "The Summer Day." Our discussion focused on mindful caregiving—caring for self and others—what we do with our meditation when we leave our simulacrum of a zendo and take our meditation into our everyday lives.
Mindful
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
From "The Summer Day":
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should have I done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
One association leads to another. In this instance, from Oliver's poems to a remark made by Norman Fischer in his recent book, What is Zen?
"... as I've gotten older and practiced with more and more people over the years, I have attached much more importance to the teachings about compassion and connection... [Those teachings] are saying that it's nothing but connection, compassion, and love. That's all there really is... The teachings are expressed through dialogue and encounter, person to person."