Ten times a day

Wonder2

Ten times a day something happens to me like this – some strengthening throb of amazement – some good sweet empathetic ping and swell.

This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.

 

Mary Oliver 
(can’t find the source, though it appears to be prose, in that every time it appears online it has no line breaks.)

About Jim

Night sky watcher; a mobile bit of earth's body. One foot lingering in Lower Cañoncito's piñon-juniper foothills at the southern tip of the Rockies, the edge of the Great Plains stretching away from the mouth of our little valley a couple miles downstream. The other foot re-rooting into the Land of the White Pines, home of my blood and bones, amidst the coastal plain and glacial hills and ponds of southern Maine, between the North Atlantic and the bones of the ancient Appalachian Mountains.

Posted on 2012/01/04, in Nourishing Words. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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