My work

My work is loving the world.

Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird-

     equal seekers of sweetness.

Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

Here the clam deep in the speckled sand. 


Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me

     keep my mind on what matters,

which is my work, 


which is mostly standing still and learning to be


The phoebe, the delphinium.

The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.

Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here, 


which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart

     and these body-clothes,

a mouth with which to give shouts of joy

     to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,

telling them all, over and over, how it is

     that we live forever.


– Mary Oliver “Messenger”


Dear reader,

I include this because without a sense of purpose, without a sense of appreciation and gratitude, why seek to re-attain health?



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