Happy Birthday (to me)

& also HB to Phoebe Bridgers

I turn thirty today, and I had wild aspirations to write something about all the big conflicting feelings I have about this landmark birthday, but that’s not happening today. Since it’s my birthday, I get to do what I want (these are the birthday rules), and I did not want to.

Instead, I’ll share with you my favorite poem that I read again and again as a reminder over this last year. It’s not anything obscure, but I love it regardless. It’s Mary Oliver (of course). I spent my early twenties as a Sylvia Plath girlie and I’m happy to be a Mary Oliver girlie now. It’s a much softer place to be.

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.

If you want to get me a birthday present,

you can pre-order my book out next month: nichellegiraldes.com/pre-order