The Furious Spinner

I hugged my man today, wrote, and took refuge in the words of three women.

This is how it happened.

While sitting in the Hawthorne Fish House waiting for dinner, I read that Ursula Le Guin skewered corporate publishing in this month's issue of Harper's (Staying Awake). In an interview about the article and herself in the Oregonian, Le Guin said that she wrote what she wanted to write, even when no one would buy any of it.

While flipping through Natalie Goldberg's book on writing a memoir, I read her admonishment, "You cannot be told enough that when you write, slow down."

While sitting in a darkened theater, Mary Oliver said to me, 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."

Every poem she writes is a love poem.

I wrote her a love note that said, "I love you, I love you, I love you." Mario handed it to the usher and the usher handed it to Mary.

Later Mary Oliver asked me, "What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

I wiped away tears.

Did you know she and her love Molly had to scrounge around for food? Her answer was to cook rice and imagine it a feast. Her answer was to work. Her answer was to love.

I have listened today.

Work.
Slow down.
Love.

Not necessarily in that order.

Labels: Mary Oliver, writing

1 comments

1 Comments:

A thousand thank-yous to you and the precious women you heard. I hear, too and I, too, love. Tears here as well.

Blessings, S

By  Susan, at 7:51 AM  

Post a Comment

All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.