One Wild and Precious Life

I recently read the poem 'The Summer Day' by Mary Oliver and marveled once again at her deep connection with nature and her gift for illustrating what nature can teach us about life.  The last few lines of the poem have both inspired and haunted me for days...

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

Okay, no pressure. I mean really, it's not a big deal--it's just that I only have this one life and once you call it 'wild and precious' well, that kind of kicks it up a notch or two, doesn't it?  On top of that, I'll be turning 50 in less than a month and I don't care who you are or what you've done with your life, that will get you thinking.

So what have I done?  I could measure it in major events or accomplishments like college, marriage, career, home, children. I could reflect on what I've learned about living with strength, grace, courage and compassion. I could count my friends---not the number of friends on Facebook, though I treasure all of you---but rather how many I've had the privilege of really knowing and allowing to really know me.  The more I consider it, the more I realize that Ms. Oliver isn't talking about what we've already done, but rather what we're going to do.

So what am I going to do?  I'm sorry if this disappoints, but I have no grand manifesto, no bucket or 'don't die wondering' list.  That would be too easy, too much like what I did the first 50 years of life.  Now instead, I'm inclined to do as the poet described before she posed her soul-searching question---learn 'how to pay attention...how to kneel down in the grass...how to be idle and blessed.'

A simple matter of shifting emphasis from what to how, from doing to being.   Something tells me that if I can do that all my remaining days, at the end of my life, it will be both wild and precious.