wild geese

I went on a run at the duck pond on base this morning. I almost didn't go because it was so cold out, but I decided to bundle up and brave the bite in the air. The duck pond is one of my favorite places to run. It has many interesting attractions that a treadmill lacks--a long, winding trail, a gorgeous view of the Napa hills, and geese...lots of geese.  

A whole flock of them had taken up residence on one stretch of the jogging path, and as I tried to weave in and out of them, they waddled their plump white rumps out of the way...except for one. One of them wouldn't budge. His beady black eyes stared a whole through me, and as I jogged past, he opened his dark beak, cranked back his neck, and released a loud, angry hiss.

I jogged on and laughed a little. It was one of those moments that caught me off guard. When I thought about what the day would hold, I didn't envision being hissed at by a goose. It definitely got my attention.

***

In the process of writing a poem for school this week, I've been noticing how the emotional and spiritual seasons we go through in life are reflected in nature. Nature repeats itself. Most beauty is in this repetition. This morning as I ran, I noticed the naked, silver branches, the placid pond, the black birds scattering across the cloudless blue sky. These details are beautiful. They are significant. They are not random images God placed in creation. They tell us something about Him. They tell us something about how to live a meaningful life. They tell us how we might fit into all of that.

***

This evening I received an email from a friend.  He attached a poem for me to read by an incredible contemporary poet, Mary Oliver.  The poem...of all poems...is called "Wild Geese."

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting

over and over announcing your place 

in the family of things.