words.

i met with my group of creatives. yesterday. so talented. hmmm. so talented. writers. designers. thinkers. imaginers.

what am i. i thought?

good conversation. ideas. thoughts. inspiration. words. assignments. (more to come on that later.)

as i sat in my comfy chair in starbucks. i looked out the window. and i wished i had my camera.

because. cutting across the sky. underneath big curli-q-ish clouds was a flock of geese. flying. in perfect v-formation. perfect. flying east. i wondered. where they were going. if they knew? if they knew who should be in charge? who should be the leader? if they knew what to expect when they got to where ever it was they were going? just if they knew.


(photo courtesy of richard seaman)

and i thought. how nice it would be. and how it was a sign of our place in this world. and my place here. and with my group. and it reminded me of a poem. that i carry with me. to remember. sorry to wax a bit poetic. but i thought it was. a bit poetic. right then. it was just one of those moments.

it was a good day.

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

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.