A friend texted me a few days ago, after reading that I was sick:

“When you feel better again, I would love to meet again! It’s been a long time!”

Indeed it has.  I smile when I think of our conversations.  They’re real, one of my favourite words. “Here’s my life … show me yours.”

Talking with her is easy. I don’t have to censor my words. I don’t have to worry about whether she’ll like my thoughts – or me. There is simply expression, from her and from me, knowing that the other will “get it”, adding no comparison or evaluation. I get to breathe easy.

My friend may be reading this. I’m sure she’ll recognize herself … and me.

I’m thinking of the writers I enjoy. I feel the same ease when I read their novels or poems. “Come. Let’s go for a coffee.” I’m talking about you, Stephen King. Your books are so much more than horror. You create characters that I fall in love with.

And now another name …

Mary Oliver

She was (and is) an American poet who loved what nature taught her. Mary died in 2019 but not really.

Would you like to hear one of her poems? Why not?

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 the 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.

With my friend, I can talk about “the soft animal of my body loving what it loves”. We will share the beauty of the rain and “announce our place in the family of things”.

We will be simple, easy and true