Mary Oliver was a chain smoker who hid pencils in the trees around Provincetown so that she would always have a writing utensil on hand. She was private and internal, yet never locked her doors at night. She metaphorically holds mine and thousands of others' hands every day as we wander through our foreign lives. She's a constant reminder to take a breath, take a walk, or take five minutes to acknowledge that we cannot possibly be the most complex creatures to exist. There are literally whales in the sea, and bees in the air, and skunk cabbage being the first to bloom in the spring !! How can anything be more intricate and fascinating than that?

At twenty years old, she was technically my first poetry teacher (thank you for your service, A Poetry Handbook) and is now, by far, my favorite poet. So, I guess that's all to say that she is so important to me, and therefore this is so important to me. I cried like a baby while listening. It was somehow all about Mary Oliver but also the whole world and those sticky, strange connections that make us all intertwined. I just completely loved it.

Pleeeeaaase, pleeeeaaase give it a listen!!! I'm begging!!!