song of the builders

I didn’t know what to expect when we moved to Melbourne last year, so I didn’t expect much. It’s a true testament to the city (and Australians in general, really) that I never once felt lonely. Homesick, yes; lonely, never.

The postman who knew me by name. The baristas at the local coffee shop who’d start our regular order while I was still in line. The next-door neighbor who’d sing out to me from her patio as we hung the washing out in the searing mid-morning sun. The tailor next to the yoga studio keeping a watchful eye out for me early in the morning. The tram full of passengers–total strangers–sharing a laugh as the driver whaled on the horn for absolutely no reason. The chats and the hugs at the studios that became my home away from home.

I found great comfort in these little things, and even greater comfort in the totality of their simple existence. And it’s why I read this poem by Mary Oliver for my final week of yoga classes in Melbourne.

May it always be like this: each of us going on in our inexplicable ways, building the universe. ☾

Song of the Builders //

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God – 
a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket; 
it was moving the grains of the hillside 
this way and that way.
How great was its energy, 
how humble its effort.

Let us hope 
it will always be like this, 
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

// m a r y o l i v e r

Image: “Philosopher’s Arch” by Le Fawnhawk