The Journey

I used to blog regularly about books that I had read.  It was many years and thousands of books ago.  If I looked back at it I wouldn't feel the same way about those books because I have grown considerably since I shared my thoughts about them.  

So books are a vastly huge and important part of my life.  And now, reading is all for my own pleasure.  I have wanted to look into bibliotherapy for a very long time (just never had the time whilst I was still at work).  I have been reading online articles about bibliotherapy and other connected literary therapies. It is very interesting, and I am looking forward to delving deeper into the study. 

One thing I liked immediately is the concept of making connections.  This is something I used to talk about when I was reading to primary school kids.  And of course I have so many of my own connections to many books, poems, art and fan fiction.  

I am very excited to talk about what those connections meant to me and my life so far.  

It is a lovely coincidence that the first two lines of this poem popped up on Instagram just after I had decided to retire.    My connection with this poem is that it feels so much like a description of my own personal struggle with depression, and the lifting of the clouds that finally allowed me to hear myself.    

I love Mary Oliver and just started reading her poems last year.  There is something new to be found with each reading.  

The Journey

 One day you finally knew

 what you had to do, and began, 

though the voices around you 

kept shouting 

their bad advice - 

though the whole house 

began to tremble 

and you felt the old tug

 at your ankles. 

'Mend my life!' 

each voice cried.

 But you didn't stop.

 You knew what you had to do,

 though the wind pried

 with its stiff fingers 

at the very foundations, 

though their melancholy 

was terrible. 

It was already late 

enough, and a wild night, 

and the road full of fallen 

branches and stones. 

But little by little, 

as you left their voices behind, 

the stars began to burn 

through the sheets of clouds, 

and there was a new voice 

which you slowly 

recognised as your own,

 that kept you company

 as you strode deeper and deeper

 into the world,

 determined to do

 the only thing you could do -

 determined to save 

the only life you could save.

by Mary Oliver

New and Selected Poems, Volume One.