Welcoming October

I allowed all of August and September to slip by in silence. I didn't write a single blog, and I only wrote a few short journal entries. Honestly, I haven't had much time to think about myself, about where I am and what I'm doing. I've only had time to act. To catch the bus, to go to class, to drive to work, to sit at my desk and work, to read, to write papers, to make dinner, to wash dishes, to make appointments, to cancel appointments--to do and act and get done.

Today I told a new friend that all the weeks were going "zoom zoom zoom" (with race car hand motions). She thought it was funny, and maybe it is, but it's also kind of sad. I feel like life is rushing past me and I'm just caught in its wake. So today, even though I took the day off work to study for the most terrifying test of my life, I am writing a blog to welcome October.

A few weeks ago I had the unbelievable privilege of attending a reading by my favorite poet, Mary Oliver. Her words are the some of the most beautiful I've ever read, and I hold them very close to my heart. Hearing them from her mouth was like heaven--like being caught up in this beautiful transcendence. She read a poem I like, one whose ending is always a challenge to me:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

I have no idea what career I want to pursue or where I want to be in ten years, but I do know a few things that I want to do with my life. I stole a few moments of silence last week to write them down. I think they are true and authentic for me, and perhaps matter even more than what I get a PhD in or what job I do.

First, I looked around my simple, not quite shabby little apartment and felt very content. I realized that I want, always, wherever I end up, to live very simply. I don't want my life to become cluttered with things or the love of things. I want the old chairs, the faded colors, the quaint and quiet charm of simplicity. Anything else would be too much.

I also want to leave space for quiet and attention in my life. I don't want to go very long without reading poetry, praying my rosary, staring out the window at a funny little bird or a tree swaying in the wind. I want to sit in silence, to let beautiful words wash over me, to take walks and admire this astonishing world in which I find God in every leaf and quivering dew drop. I want to live a life of loving attention.

These two are all I know so far. I don't know if I want to be a feminist theologian or a crazy writer or a social activist, or all three. And I'm okay with not knowing. I am more concerned with who I am in the mundane, quotidian moments of life and what I do with the quiet spaces of my heart than in being important or successful. If I can live my life simply and with a sense of presence, then I think perhaps I've done something worthwhile, and maybe even admirable, with my own wild and precious life.