Roy Exum
Out of the blue, one of my dearest friends of all time writes to me from afar and reveals, “My phone’s acting funny… Or more likely, I don’t know how to use it. Anyway, I found this poem nearly a decade ago. Man, it really registered with me… I’m sharing with you, partially to check out whether I’m even semi-normal, – does it impact you, too? Talk about tears… “
Mind you, this very handsome woman is a psychologist – highly in demand with a healthy wait list – and I can attest she is very normal in the way I understand the reality of the warp-and-weave of life.
Conversely, I have gone down in fiery crashes every time I have “gone for counselling” because me talking about me is worse than a root canal. So, here’s what let’s do heading into the last week of May – read it and I’ll share an expert’s reasoning:
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The Poem, ‘WILD GEESE,’ by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things
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ROY’S VIEW OF ‘THE WILD GEESE’
In this poem I see a distraught “fellow struggler” who will always struggle until he can comprehend the real beauty of a very honest world. Breathe deep, hoist the main sail, and fly the Genoa, too.
Find, announce, and settle in the place that has been there all along. Live large and pray for someone who would love to grow old together.
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THREE EXPERT VIEWS OF ‘THE WILD GEESE’, all from the literary website, LitCharts.com:
* -- “Wild Geese” Summary
The speaker tells readers that they don't have to be perfect, nor do they have to beat themselves up by wandering the desert as if paying for their sins. Instead, people only have to treat their bodies like the vulnerable animals that they are, simply letting them love whatever they want to love. The speaker offers to commiserate with readers about their suffering and unhappiness, but adds that while they talk about this, the world will continue like normal—sunshine and rain will move over the earth's wide-open plains, tall trees, mountains, and rivers.
Wild geese will fly overhead in the open sky on their way home. No matter who you are or how lonely you are, the speaker says, you can always lose yourself in the wonders of the natural world, since these wonders call out like the urgent squawks of wild geese—a sound that, again and again, puts people back in touch with their surroundings and makes them feel at home in the world.
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* -- The Comfort and Wonder of Nature
The poem acknowledges that human beings are soft, vulnerable creatures prone to suffering and despair. At the same time, it frames the vast, awe-inspiring beauty of nature as a soothing and comforting force—something that reminds people that they’re part of something bigger and more meaningful than their everyday problems.
The speaker starts by acknowledging that human beings tend to wallow in despair or punish themselves for not being “good” enough. There’s no need for this, the speaker insists, in part because doing so doesn’t help matters, and in part because human problems are so small in the grand scheme of the natural world.
As such, after briefly offering to commiserate with the reader, the speaker turns their attention elsewhere: “Meanwhile the world goes on." The earth won’t stop turning, the speaker implies, because of human pain. The speaker puts such pain in perspective by describing all of the beautiful things that will happen in the natural world regardless of any one person’s feelings—the sun and rain will move over enormous “landscapes,” for example, while wild geese call out from above.
All of these beauties, the poem intimates, make human “despair” seem much less dire and more manageable. And “no matter how lonely” or upset a person is, it’s difficult to remain focused on life’s difficulties while simultaneously taking in the beauty and grandeur of the surrounding world.
But it’s not simply that nature is indifferent to human troubles. The speaker's attention to "despair" makes it clear that personal problems play out alongside everything that happens in the natural world. The speaker insists that human beings are, in fact, a part of that very world—that they have a “place / in the family of things.” Feeling this sense of connection to nature offers comfort, inspiration, and a sense of belonging, reminding people that the struggles they face only make up a small part of life.
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* -- Human Vulnerability and Suffering
“Wild Geese” seeks to put the pressures and difficulties of everyday life into perspective. The speaker acknowledges the burden people feel to be “good” and also notes that everyone inevitably experiences “despair” or loneliness from time to time. Beating yourself up for perceived mistakes or failings, the speaker implies, is a fruitless endeavor that saps people's happiness.
The poem begins by declaring “You do not have to be good,” immediately giving readers permission to stop striving for perfection. Life is difficult and full of emotional turmoil, the poem suggests, so people should be kinder to themselves.
Not doing so won’t make things any better, which is why the speaker insists that “You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.” In other words, people don’t have to exhaustively punish themselves to make up for mistakes, because mistakes are human! Instead, people should recognize that they are nothing but “soft animal(s)” looking for love.
The speaker is saying that human beings are imperfect and delicate creatures, and that what they really need is tenderness—an idea that encourages people to accept their faults and vulnerabilities.
This doesn’t mean the speaker pretends suffering doesn't exist. On the contrary, the speaker commiserates with the reader, saying, “Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.” The point is that people shouldn’t wallow in self-pity. Doing so simply distracts them from the rest of the world—a world that “calls to” them and “offers itself to (their) imagination.” The poem ultimately implies that if you’re too focused on being “good,” you can’t see all the “good” that already exists.
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My dear, dear friend who wrote this weekend must know that she speaks for thousands, maybe millions, who suffer needlessly. We are all okay, no excuse nor explanation necessary. The only condition is each of us must live as brilliantly as we can.
Please try. We must try.