Mary Oliver’s “Lead” And New Beginnings

Mary Oliver’s poem “Lead” wants you to know something. 

About yourself. I can’t tell you what it is. 

But it has to do with the broken bits. 

It has to do with what you do after you break. 

After. Next. On the first day.

Even when it’s not the first-first one.

Because… I don’t know, we’re all giant babies taking giant baby steps, you know?

It had been a rough few years for me when I came across this poem. I’m still learning what those last few lines mean. Sit with them too (emphasis added):

Here is a storyto break your heart.Are you willing?This winterthe loons came to our harborand died, one by one,of nothing we could see.A friend told meof one on the shorethat lifted its head and openedthe elegant beak and cried outin the long, sweet savoring of its lifewhich, if you have heard it,you know is a sacred thing.,and for which, if you have not heard it,you had better hurry to wherethey still sing.And, believe me, tell no onejust where that is.The next morningthis loon, speckledand iridescent and with a planto fly hometo some hidden lake,was dead on the shore.I tell you thisto break your heart,by which I mean onlythat it break open and never close againto the rest of the world.

Once it’s broken open, you realize the vessel is larger than you. That you’re already full. So maybe stop fighting it. 

As Leonard Cohen said, “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”

Life is looking bright.