Mary Oliver, in her exquisite poem “Wild Geese,” writes, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body loves what it loves.” I often breath in those words as if my very life depended on them. That simple sentence pours comfort on my soul as no others have. 

“Mary,” I ask, “Do you mean to say that I can simply write, create stories in my imagination, paint, walk in the woods, doodle, cook fragrant food, build stone cairns, dream fantastical things, listen to birds, cuddle up with my dog, dig in the dirt and watch things grow?” She answers, “You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.” 

Her answer is the redemption I have sought and never found in all my earnest searching. I speak this poem to myself frequently as a mantra to keep my head above the waters of despair … clinging to these words as a life jacket to keep me afloat when weighted down by my inadequacies. That brings to mind a verse from another poem. This from Antonio Machado’s poem, “Last Night As I Was Sleeping,

"Last night as I was sleeping I dreamt--marvelous error!
--that I had a beehive here inside my heart
And the golden bees were making white combs
and sweet honey from my old failures."

“Antonio,” I ask, “Are you saying that all the buzzing and rumblings that too many times keep me up all night are the bees working their magic in my heart? And, not an indication of my unworthiness?” And he answers, “Marvelous error!”

Mary Oliver's "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 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.