Day 17: A poem for the Journey

Today, I have the pleasure of writing at the High Calling on our journey into aging. Some of us face this part of the journey with a sort of resigned acceptance and others walk the road marking the milestones with their own small rebellions. I would love for you to meet me at the High Calling and join in the conversation.

I thought I’d leave you with this poem today and encourage you to continue listening to the voice you recognize as yours. May it encourage you in a few small rebellions of your own.

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

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