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4.07 AVERAGE
4.07 AVERAGE
loooved what she wrote about writing and writers but some of the nature stuff was a bit boring for my personal taste lol
slow-paced
medium-paced
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
We got a little lost in the sauce in the middle with the essays reflecting on other authors (couldnt bring myself to gaf) but as always Marys observational writing is soothing and detaching. When she writes about nature I feel like Im slowly sliding into a perfectly warm bath, and everything around me is quiet. Definitely do for a re-read the next time im at a national park.
So many great passages and lessons learned from Mary Oliver in this book. Her writing was beautiful, not necessarily my go-to style, but still great
emotional
hopeful
reflective
slow-paced
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
"For me, the door to the woods is the door to my temple."
Suddenly I was seized by an urgency: Where lies the door to my temple - and how do I get there?
Oliver is always an effective balm for the weary, disillusioned spirit. I sought her during this time, in search of a mentor or guide, hoping to find lucidity and or tenderness, which I did. Her writing inspires prayer.
I especially loved reading this in the mornings when my mind was clear and I was yet full of hope for the day ahead. I recommend pairing with homebrewed coffee and a view of trees.
Suddenly I was seized by an urgency: Where lies the door to my temple - and how do I get there?
Oliver is always an effective balm for the weary, disillusioned spirit. I sought her during this time, in search of a mentor or guide, hoping to find lucidity and or tenderness, which I did. Her writing inspires prayer.
I especially loved reading this in the mornings when my mind was clear and I was yet full of hope for the day ahead. I recommend pairing with homebrewed coffee and a view of trees.
hopeful
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
In one of my first college English classes I concluded that I didn’t care for poetry. Reading a poem seemed to be an esoteric exercise in parsing and decoding, a lot of work and not much fun, meant for professors perhaps, but certainly not for the likes of me. Then almost twenty years later I encountered Mary Oliver. She showed me that a poem can be a luminous portal, an easy joy, and I’ve been a fan ever since. this collection of her selected essays was my first introduction to her prose, and I’m equally enchanted.
In an essay about the pinewoods near her home where she likes to walk, she writes, “Stepping out into the world, into the grass, onto the path, was always a kind of relief. I was not escaping anything. I was returning to the arena of delight.” I feel the same way when I walk into the redwood forest near my own home, and it’s also the way I felt reading each of these essays. Whether about Walt Whitman, a sea turtle, or building a house, each is an arena of delight. I may not put this book away on a shelf, might prefer to keep that always available delight close at hand.
In an essay about the pinewoods near her home where she likes to walk, she writes, “Stepping out into the world, into the grass, onto the path, was always a kind of relief. I was not escaping anything. I was returning to the arena of delight.” I feel the same way when I walk into the redwood forest near my own home, and it’s also the way I felt reading each of these essays. Whether about Walt Whitman, a sea turtle, or building a house, each is an arena of delight. I may not put this book away on a shelf, might prefer to keep that always available delight close at hand.