we’ve all seen the tiktok viral trends of all the “___ girl summer”s, right? tomato girl summer, brat summer, hot girl summer… who knew there are so many ways a girl can be in summer!
well, i have an idea for this summer… a mary oliver summer!!!
to be honest, I think I am yearning for a mary oliver spring, summer, fall, and autumn, but let’s start with summer.
in a feature on mary on the poetry foundation website, it described her difficult home life, saying that she coped by retreating “to the nearby woods, where she would build huts of sticks and grass and write poems.” most of what mary wrote about was the merging of the human and the natural world.
mary would walk daily, notebook in hand, pausing to write when inspiration struck her even stashing pencils in the trees. of her walking and writing practice, she said, "when things are going well, you know, the walk does not get rapid or get anywhere: I finally just stop and write. that's a successful walk!"
mary was a solitary and slow person, but she shared her life with her partner, molly alone cook for over 40 years before molly passed away. "I took one look [at molly] and fell, hook and tumble,” she wrote about her partner.
so, knowing this limited amount of information of mary, what does having a mary oliver summer look like?
to answer this, I want to honor her poem, when death comes:
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
when my mother passed away last year, the eulogy I wrote ended with a combination of the summer day and wild geese, and these words:
My mothers passing is both a falling apart and a starting anew. Death is not a situation where we have to mourn for the person who has passed. Death is something that happens to all that is born. Death, while often painful for those of us still in Life, is the most natural thing that can happen to us; it is truly the only thing in this world that is guaranteed. My mother lived her last years in pain and suffering. Now, she is no longer in that state. I feel, in all levels of my consciousness and existence and soul, that she is not only in a better place, but a more expanded, free, limitless, beautiful, untethered, joyous realm that she deserves to be in. You have been gifted this life, this beautiful, sacred, fragile, painful, breathtaking, impermanent life. Instead of fearing death, for it is nothing to be afraid of, how can we utilize the promise of it to be fully present in our lives now? Please, please, live it. For you, for those that came before you, for those who come from you, for me, for my mother, live your life, and live it with pride and joy.
a lot of people came up to me afterwards and said that my words (and mary’s) helped them. i remember one woman saying, “we were supposed to be here to comfort you, but you comforted all of us.”
but I don’t know if I would have had access to the words that comforted them, had they not been surrounded by mary’s wisdom.
i regret that I have not seen her poem, when death comes, until doing research for this essay. “i think of each life as a flower, as common as a field daisy…and each body a lion of courage, and something precious to the earth.” no life is greater than another, no person is better than anyone else, and everyone is inherently worthy.
“when it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. when it's over, I don't want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real. I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened, or full of argument. I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.”
and isn’t that what we all want? to know, at the end of our life, that we didn’t just visit? that we have lived, fully, wholly, and experienced every part of it? so, that’s what our mary oliver summer will be about.
mary oliver summer “in”s
long walks, preferably daily
setting a timer for 15 minutes a day to just be silent and still
phone blocking apps, like opal or forest
restorative or yin yoga - at home, online, or in the studio
lavender, basil, lemon, or rosemary candles
starting / maintaining a commonplace notebook
getting up early
watching the sunrise
picnics
farm markets
small dinner parties
bird watching
deep cleaning our spaces
donating clothes and other items to reputable charities, organizations, or non-profits
thrifting instead of buying new whenever possible
composting
hiking
flower bouquets
nature sounds at night
collecting rocks
saying hi to neighbors
going to the river
herbal tea in the mornings and nights
walking instead of driving when possible
reading (get!! a!! library!! card!!)
journaling at the park
baking
stargazing
finding shapes in the clouds
hanging up a hummingbird feeder
art of all kinds - looking, making, talking about
volunteering
lounging
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, The Summer Day
mary oliver summer “outs”s
doomscrolling
rampant consumerism
being worried about having a “bikini body”
pushing yourself to do too much
going to things you don’t want to go to (within reason)
strict adherence to beauty or fashion trends (you don’t have to get blueberry donut milk nails or wear butter yellow, unless you want to)
repetitive overconsumption of substances
food waste
shopping from temu and shein
over-ordering on amazon — ask yourself first: do you really really have to order from amazon? the answer is usually no
ditto target
judging others or yourself
spiritual bypassing
oversharing
convenience culture
always being entertained by a podcast, music, movie, show, app, etc. let yourself be bored for once in your life
doing anything “for the grid”… do people still say this? whatever you’re calling it, don’t do it
fomo — be intentional about the select things you really do want to do
books to read during your mary oliver summer:
fiction
The Book of Longings by Sue Monk Kidd
Spells for Forgetting by Adrienne Young
The Unmaking of June Farrow by Adrienne Young
The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
The Book of Gothel: Memoir of a Witch by Mary McMyne
Circe by Madeline Miller
nonfiction
The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate―Discoveries from A Secret World by Peter Wohlleben
Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer
Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert
Sex God: Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality and Spirituality by Rob Bell
Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed
Root and Ritual: Timeless Ways to Connect to Land, Lineage, Community, and the Self by Becca Piastrelli
How We Show Up: Reclaiming Family, Friendship, and Community Paperback by Mia Birdsong
Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Mary Magdalene Revealed: The First Apostle, Her Feminist Gospel & the Christianity We Haven't Tried Yet by Meggan Watterson
The Backyard Bird Chronicles by Amy Tan
poetry / prose
Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear: Poems from Gaza by Mosab Abu Toha
Today Means Amen by Sierra DeMulder
Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver
Nature by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Leaves of Grass by Whalt Whitman
Upstream: Selected Essays by Mary Oliver
Complete Poems of Robert Frost: A Collection of his Greatest Poetry on Nature, Life, and The Human Spirit by Robert Frost
Into the Wilderness: Tales of Belonging by Samantha Nagel ;)
substacks to consume:
by ;)) by by by by by by by the soundtrack for your summer:
if you’re interested in a mary oliver summer’s sister,
wrote a charming essay about having an ina garten summer, which i will also be dabbling in.an ina garten summer is a barefoot rebellion against urgency. it’s cooking something slowly and reading in between steps. it’s setting the table even if no one’s coming over. it’s deciding that maybe the point of all this, the books, the meals, the scents, the rituals, isn’t to optimize life, but to taste it more deeply.
—
caitlyn, ina garten summer
happy mary oliver summer <3