Your wild and precious life
What “The Summer Day” Teaches Us About Meaning and Purpose
Sometimes, when re-shelving books, I see passers-by out the library windows pausing to read the essential question posed in the colorful mural at our entrance: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
I wonder if they love the poet Mary Oliver (1935—2019) as much as I do and are taken happily by surprise—as I was the first time I saw it, in the winter of 2022. That day, I had received an envelope intended for an unfamiliar address; rather than drop it back in the box, I decided to take a ride and hand it off to its intended person. Hurrying back to my car after the impromptu delivery, I was stopped in my tracks by words I had read many times—but never on such a scale.
Serendipity, courtesy of an errant letter and a great poet.
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When people read these last lines of “The Summer Day” outside of the full poem (below), they often take it to mean, “What amazing adventures will your life hold?” or “What dramatic and incredible things will you accomplish?”
But Mary Oliver’s question punctuates a poem in which she has described seemingly simple acts: wandering idly through fields, pondering creation, and marveling at the behaviors of a creature she observes up close. For her, these are not to be taken for granted: She feels blessed to be able to appreciate the beauty and magic of nature; that it is easily accessible does not diminish its splendor. She asks the reader, “Tell me, what else should I have done?”—as in, “How could I have spent my time in any more meaningful way?” or “What could matter more than this?”
It suggests that finding meaning and purpose—however we define it—is as worthy a life’s goal as the greatest adventure. It asks us to consider what it means to have “accomplished” something: Can we derive a sense of purpose from “smaller” victories? Through being present in the moment? By making those around us feel seen and understood? Can we define “success” through incremental but purposeful action?
For me, this poem is a request to consider the possibility that every day can be an adventure if we act in support of our life’s purpose: that if, for example, we connect with the complex and magnificent creatures we encounter every day—that if we look at them and see them, really see them—the potential for extraordinariness is infinite; that when we do, we have already taken our one wild and precious life and crafted it in service of the idea that true achievement—what is truly remarkable—is knowing how to fall down in the grass and pay attention.
Happy reading,
Ms. Jennie
“The Summer Day” can be found in, among other places, Mary Oliver’s book Devotions, which can (of course) be checked out from the Linder Library.
The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
—Mary Oliver
And here is the great Mary Oliver herself.