As I venture out this morning, I'm thinking about the Mary Oliver poem, wild Geese, where she says, “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."

This morning, I'm noticing that my body loves the cool morning air. Especially after I leave the apartment that I was cooped up in all day long yesterday.



My body loves to move outside, whether it's walking or jogging or hiking up and down a local mountain trail.

My body loves the light, the darkness, and the sunshine streaming through the leaves of the bushes and the trees.

My body loves to be still and absorb the pace of nature.

My body loves it when I connect with presence or whatever that feeling of something I connect with is out here.

My body is thrilled by the sights and sounds of nature and wildlife. Songbirds, singing hummingbirds, whizzing about. Pairs of ducks hanging out together. Even bears sauntering through the woods. It loves beavers, causing chaos with their dams, swimming through the creek and chopping down trees with their razor-sharp teeth.  Otters and seals. Eagles soaring on the wind, seagulls, and deer.

My body loves being enveloped by tree tunnels and the sight and smell of spring flowers.

My body loves the feeling of solitude and silence that occurs when I hike up a mountain and get past all the traffic noise and suburban development.

My body loves the sight of water. Calm or covered with white caps on a windy day.

My body loves seeing snow-capped mountains late into spring.

My body loves the little dapple of color and contrast that wildflowers bring.

My body loves being with my family and the joy that this guy (Grandson Gus) is bringing to all of us.