What Should I Do With My One Wild And Precious Life?

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?”

Every time I hear these closing words from Mary Oliver’s poem A Summer Day it is as if they are falling on me anew and speaking deep into the core of my being.  I suppose it’s because they hold a universal question.  Many people wonder what they are supposed to do with their life.  In this poetic asking there is a weightiness added to the ask. 

As someone who has been on a long and winding path of discernment it resonates with me in the deepest chambers of my soul.  It acknowledges that life is big, and wide, and open, and at the same time precious, limited, and not to be squandered.  For as long as I can remember I have wanted to live a life that mattered, that sees others as they truly are, a life that is authentic to my true self, a life that is born from the roots of my soul. 

For a long time I was on track.  I knew what I wanted.  My college education was clearly directed toward my goal, and it worked for a long time. I think on the outside it looked like I had my shit together. Until. Until that track no longer felt like it resonated with my soul and the work I was doing, although good work, no longer felt authentic.  It was a crisis moment that has lasted for several years. 

To go from a clear sense of purpose and place in the world to no sense of purpose or place is very disorienting and isolating.  It has been a humbling journey of always feeling like I don’t know where I’m headed.  I would spend time preparing if I had any idea what it was I needed to prepare for.  It has felt on some days like stumbling in the dark, and on other days like a boat floating in the water with no rudder to offer direction.  It has always been consistently unsettling.

The way I have always lived my life no longer works.  When life is clear and the direction is set you can make plans, further your education, and rest in the comfort of knowing.  But now that is lost, and a new way of living is unfolding.  It feels like a lot of stopping and starting and turning and then turning around again.  And I have no idea where I’m headed.

It has taken a lot of time, but I can see now that this is a process that I need to trust.  As I live into this mystery more and more I am able to experience the sacred in the ordinary, and see that life appears to be working itself out, so long as I get out of the way, so long as I stop trying to control it by turning it into what I think it ought to be, so long as I listen to my truest and deepest self.

The right things just keep popping up for me at the right times, but because I am not very good at trusting that, I keep trying to push or pull circumstances to go where I want them. It turns out that all that does is make me tired, and really has no effect on my outcomes.  The most useful things I have done over the past several years include listening (to myself, to my friends, to my mentors), being open (to the next thing that presents itself), and creating space for my soul to grow, to speak, and to be quiet.

The hard part is that our culture does not encourage listening, openness, or creating sacred space particularly at times of discernment or questioning.  We are often encouraged to do something or a lot of somethings, to force things, to push harder, to find the answers as soon as possible. 

I would love to say that after several years I finally have my shit together again and know where I’m headed, but I don’t.  What I have gained is some perspective.  I’m learning to take advantage of the things that show up that really speak to my soul.  I’m learning to find the sacred in the mystery of not knowing.  And I’m learning to trust that just because I don’t have the answers doesn’t mean I’m not living a wild and precious life.

May you live fully into the mystery and depth of who you are, and where you are meant to be.