This week is a transition.  Today we celebrate the last Sunday before Lent, here, always Transfiguration Sunday.  Wednesday is Ash Wednesday.  Tuesday (and every tuesday a friend of mine claims, just look at me) is Fat Tuesday.

Time to renew my spiritual formation, discipline.

As I was preparing for today in the wee hours, I heard that strange call of Snow Geese.  It is much more haunting than that of their Canadian cousins.

They made me think of Mary Oliver’s poem…appropriate, I think, for this week.

 

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.

© Mary Oliver.

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