death by delight
This week has been nuts. Instead of closing two nights I swapped with someone to help her out and ended up closing an extra night, and because my best friend L came down so we could go to a lecture I had to switch two shifts, so everyday this week has felt like a different day and finally it's Friday!
Heading to the Mitten (MI) again tonight after work, this time for best friend K's bachelorette party. I can't wait to be enjoying food and drinks and naughty girl talk with the besties and others and a night out on the town.
So much to say about the last week, etc., will have to post more later, so until then, enjoy this lovely poem:
"Mindful"
Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for—
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world—
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant—
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these—
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
-- Mary Oliver
Heading to the Mitten (MI) again tonight after work, this time for best friend K's bachelorette party. I can't wait to be enjoying food and drinks and naughty girl talk with the besties and others and a night out on the town.
So much to say about the last week, etc., will have to post more later, so until then, enjoy this lovely poem:
"Mindful"
Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for—
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world—
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant—
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these—
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
-- Mary Oliver
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