there is something about mary

oliver of course....

I woke to worry. Again.

She’s like an alarm clock nobody set. I could share this morning’s list of meanderings-but I won’t. Perhaps they would serve as a match to light your own, or worse…well, you get it.

“You worry about worrying,” my Dad used to say. Back when I was ten, I don’t think anyone called this kind of childlike angst, anxiety. I was the family worry wort. What the actual “eff” IS a worry wort, anyway? And what kind of facialist or pediatrist might be called on to excavate such a thing of horror? I had no idea back then, but it became an answer to my ailment, a nickname I carried and a way for my folks to dismiss what seemed a tweenage phase.

Perhaps my doomsday contemplations were prepping me for the “I’ll give you something to worry about my dear,” phase of life. My folks divorced in the 80s when nobody did. Or had. Years later, my mother died suddenly at 50. I could not have worried about this great unknown back when. But, once you know something bad can happen, inevitability the worry grows uglier wings and your minds eye crafts more of the unimaginable.

When there are no answers to my worries, warranted fears or imaginary woes, I turn to beautiful words. I sat in a writing workshop with memoirist and admitted girl crush, Dani Shapiro, at Kripalu Center, the week before the world shut down to Covid. This decades old retreat and wisdom center in the Berkshires, is a just right blend of yoga, learning and earthy (ok, crunchy) escapsim.

Dani shared in this weekend writing workshop, that keeping beautiful words in our ears and surroundings, is as much a part of writing as the writing itself. She keeps a tiny notebook, a commonplace book, at all times for just this. This is a place to collect quotes, snippets of dialogue, shows and books folks share, poems and whatever else strikes fancy. This is not a new idea she tells us, Virginia Woolf, Henry David Thoreau, Mark Twain, Ralph Waldo Emerson and newsies of the past had them too. A record of time and place. A diary of daily inspiration. She shared the type of notebook she has used over the years and how she refers to them desk-side as companions to her writing process. Sometimes I jot my worries alongside my overheard snippets. Somehow laying them down removes the energy of their reality.

Back to Mary. Oliver of course. This morning I was scrolling my Instagram, and saw her poem, I Worried. Oh, that there were a phone line to heaven, I would call Mary right now and thank her over and over.

There were the beautiful words I needed. I padded to the computer, to share them with you. May your weekend, be worry free. I’ll take worry light for the win. Thank you Mary Oliver.

Love, Barri

PS. I have been writing 1,000 words a day, as part of Jami Attenberg’s #1000wordsofsummer newsletter and inspired writer’s challenge. The letter today, from Kiese Laymon is beyond beautiful and heartbreakingly heroic.