There’s a quote I often see shared online. You've probably encountered it too. It's usually used in those motivational snippets that verge on guilt-trips, urging us to reflect on our lives and question if they are enough.
The quote is from a poem by Mary Oliver, and it reads: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
This line, when isolated and framed within the context of American ideals, evokes a torrent of judgment.
Have I been ambitious enough in my career?
Am I making enough money to be deemed successful?
Have I achieved anything worth remembering?
But here’s the thing about that line from that poem. It’s out of context. Much like many things online, it represents just one fragment of a larger picture. The full poem reveals a different message entirely:
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 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?
Seen in its original context, it’s clear Oliver wasn't urging us to judge the worthiness of our lives. She wasn’t pondering career milestones, financial success, or fame.
Instead, she was reflecting on a day spent in quiet observation, marveling at a grasshopper flitting through a field. Her hours were idle yet blessed as she noticed beauty in the smallest things. In other words, the exact opposite of what we are taught to strive for in American culture.
What do you think about that?
There is so much we miss. Often our minds buzz with things to be done, tasks imperfectly completed, and worries about the future. When we need a break, we turn to our phones, numbing ourselves with memes and reels, or diving into news that stokes our fears before retreating into digital distractions again. Rinse and repeat.
What if we slowed down? Stopped the constant thinking, the numbing distractions, and just noticed the little things? A drop of morning dew on a leaf, the smell of coffee in the morning, or the sound of wind rustling through leaves. We hurry through life, but where are we going? There is only one destination any of us can ever reach. Everything along the way is merely how we traveled there.
I often think of Mary Oliver’s poem as I look around my small, quiet life on the edge of nowhere. Sometimes, I compare myself to my grad school colleagues - doctors, lawyers, political leaders, even one who knows Obama.
Yet, the most meaningful moments in my life are those I could have missed - but didn’t. These are the scenes I hope will pass before my eyes before I take my last breath.
Lying in the snow with my son after building a snowman, truly watching the snowflakes float down from the sky. Sitting on a park bench, eyes closed, listening. Trimming tomato plants in the summer sun, smelling the earth and greenery. Floating down a river while kayaking with my family. Kneading bread dough. Baking a simple cake to share with those I love.
None of these memories are about work, even though I worked myself to the bone for many years. Not one memory has to do with the acquisition of any material thing. None of it matters anyways. Have you ever felt lasting satisfaction after an Amazon box arrives? Or is it a fleeting instant soon replaced by nothing?
At the end of the day, I’m not sure anything we do matters if we aren’t able to slow down and be present in our lives. If we aren’t able to take in the moments.
After all, what is a life, if not a series of moments?
What kind of memories do you want to make?
Videos in this essay:
Kayaking with my family.
Watching the waves come in while my son gathered shells.
I love this!! 💖 My husband recently took me away for the weekend and arranged for us to have a picnic. We laid down on the blanket for a while, gazing up at the sky, and just talked about anything and everything. It was a highlight of our time together. Like you said, these are the moments we will remember.
What an enjoyable morning read! ☕️📖