Recommendation: Mary Oliver Reading Mary Oliver

I am actually here, at the lake, and it's just as I described (but where are you guys?). It's a long drive and I was alone in the car. So last night I went to the library to pick up some audio books and some traditional gospel music (I love that stuff, but never know what to buy, so I borrow). When I have a long drive ahead of me and more cds than I can listen to and no one in the car to say "let's listen to something else," I am almost as content as when I have nothing to do for a few hours besides knitting (as rare an occasion, to be sure).

I began with Ekhart Tolle giving a lecture on "now" (my favourite time of day) on the cd "In the Presence of a Great Mystery." When I hit Toronto traffic and started thinking of alternative routes, he was at the part where he was saying that we need to "make friends with the present moment." We're always wanting it to be over, to be somewhere else, and so rarely satisfied with what's happening now, whatever that may be." So I stuck it out in the traffic without changing my route. At one point he said, if you can explain what I said you probably didn't get it. Well, I'm not sure I got it, but I can't explain what he said. His voice is as soothing as velvet and it's a wonder I didn't zone out into a meditative state right behind the wheel. If you like non-religious spirituality, I recommend this one. It's about 2 and half hours.

The old gospel music was a bit too much for me right after this, so I quickly switched to "At Blackwater Pond: Mary Oliver Reads Mary Oliver." Can I be as inarticulate as to say, "WOW!" The woman writes the most lovely, inspiring poetry, perfect for the drive, which takes me further into nature with each kilometre. And more than that, she's a fabulous reader. I didn't realize how wonderful the poem "Beans" is! And also, I forgot that she can be funny, like in the poem about finding the bear footprint. And if there was a perfect choice for following up a lecture about the present moment, it's Mary Oliver. Her poems dive into the present and open it up to all of its detail, as if each slice of time and space contains an infinity of possibility. I mean, the first line of "Peonies" is one of those lines that make you think, how did she think of that? How does a poet think to start with:

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,

Okay. I'm still in training!