Ann Tyson
I was given this Mary Oliver poem The Journey by a friend about a year into my divorce. I have shared a portion of an interview that Maria Shriver did with Mary Oliver about her life and writing.
Maria Shriver: One line of yours I often quote is, "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" What do you think you have done with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver: I used up a lot of pencils.
Maria Shriver: That's a lot of pressure! You always say, though, that poems are meant to be read.
Mary Oliver: Oh, they are. They're meant to be read and heard.
Maria Shriver: It's different if I hear you speak "The Journey" than if I read it.
Mary Oliver: Yes, it is different, but not too different if I've done a good job with the poem, with the words I use, the line breaks. Poets these days don't seem to know much about mechanics. Donald Hall says a poem has two lives—there is the statement that you're making, and there is the poem's sensual body. The words you use, the layout... I'm fascinated by that. The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
I was given this Mary Oliver poem The Journey by a friend about a year into my divorce. I have shared a portion of an interview that Maria Shriver did with Mary Oliver about her life and writing.
Maria
Shriver from an Oprah Magazine interview with Mary Oliver:
My
brother Timothy turned me on to Mary Oliver about ten years ago. He thought I'd
like her poems because she's such an independent woman, and he was right. Her
work is uplifting and full of courage—it's about the natural world, but also
about larger themes like love, survival, gratitude, joy—and it spoke to me. I
started quoting her in speeches, and even put one poem, "The
Journey," on my desk, where I still read it often.
Maria Shriver: You've told me that for you, poetry is and always was a calling. How do you know when something is a calling?
Mary Oliver: When you can't help but go there. We all have a hungry heart, and one of the things we hunger for is happiness. So as much as I possibly could, I stayed where I was happy. I spent a great deal of time in my younger years just writing and reading, walking around the woods in Ohio, where I grew up. I often say if you could lay out all the writing I did in those years, it would go to the moon and back. It was bad, it was derivative. But when you love what you're doing, honestly, you can get better.
Maria Shriver: Why did you first turn to a creative art?
Mary Oliver: Well, I think because with words, I could build a world I could live in. I had a very dysfunctional family, and a very hard childhood. So I made a world out of words. And it was my salvation.
Maria Shriver: You've told me that for you, poetry is and always was a calling. How do you know when something is a calling?
Mary Oliver: When you can't help but go there. We all have a hungry heart, and one of the things we hunger for is happiness. So as much as I possibly could, I stayed where I was happy. I spent a great deal of time in my younger years just writing and reading, walking around the woods in Ohio, where I grew up. I often say if you could lay out all the writing I did in those years, it would go to the moon and back. It was bad, it was derivative. But when you love what you're doing, honestly, you can get better.
Maria Shriver: Why did you first turn to a creative art?
Mary Oliver: Well, I think because with words, I could build a world I could live in. I had a very dysfunctional family, and a very hard childhood. So I made a world out of words. And it was my salvation.
Maria Shriver: One line of yours I often quote is, "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" What do you think you have done with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver: I used up a lot of pencils.
Maria Shriver: That's a lot of pressure! You always say, though, that poems are meant to be read.
Mary Oliver: Oh, they are. They're meant to be read and heard.
Maria Shriver: It's different if I hear you speak "The Journey" than if I read it.
Mary Oliver: Yes, it is different, but not too different if I've done a good job with the poem, with the words I use, the line breaks. Poets these days don't seem to know much about mechanics. Donald Hall says a poem has two lives—there is the statement that you're making, and there is the poem's sensual body. The words you use, the layout... I'm fascinated by that. The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
~ Mary Oliver
