My Life

"Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring


down the mountain.
. . . . .


Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its cities,


it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;
. . . . ."

"Spring"

by Mary Oliver

My life includes writing, and music, and cities; does it also include the bear--descending the mountain, breathing and tasting? Have I so lost touch with wildlife and country and nature? I used to live on the edge of the woods, and my friends would play in the woods. But not me--Daddy wanted to protect me. So I stayed protected.

I lived with music, and books, and town life. And that was an advantage, because I went to good schools, and was exposed to music and literature, because of my mother's background. And growing up in Oak Ridge provided "the good life," and loving family and friends. I had minimal exposure to "life in the country," though that was my father's background.


And when Nick and I moved to Seattle, we went to Puget Sound, and beautiful scenery, mountains, trees, and camped some (but not much). And when he spent summers on San Juan Island directing the archaeological field school, I took our daughter to visit (for a short time), but then went home--back to civilization, and work, and "real life."


I was always removed from any kind of wilderness, always protected. Always kept myself protected. I would have been very afraid of this big, black, wild bear. Mary Oliver's question--how to love this world--would never have occurred to me. I've always kept life--and people--and nature--at arm's length. Don't get too close; I might get hurt. The bear might turn on me, and bite me. Stay protected. Stay safe.


But then don't complain because real life has passed me by.