The Cure for Anything

I’d like to be there right about now. It looks so peaceful. I can just about smell the pine trees and hear the water in the distance. Kayaking and swimming in the sunshine.  Naps.  Long hikes through the quiet woods. Stacks of good books. Fresh-picked berries. Evening campfires.  Fireflies in the dark. Nights just cool enough for a light blanket and cuddling.

Sometimes lying under trees and walking barefoot on the Earth is the most spiritual you could do in your life.

On Meditating, Sort Of

Meditation, so I’ve heard, is best accomplished
if you entertain a certain strict posture.
Frankly, I prefer just to lounge under a tree.
So why should I think I could ever be successful?

Some days I fall asleep, or land in that
even better place — half asleep — where the world,
spring, summer, autumn, winter —
flies through my mind in its
hardy ascent and its uncompromising descent.

So I just lie like that, while distance and time
reveal their true attitudes: they never
heard of me, and never will, or ever need to.

Of course I wake up finally
thinking, how wonderful to be who I am,
made out of earth and water,
my own thoughts, my own fingerprints —
all that glorious, temporary stuff.

-Mary Oliver