“Wild Geese”: Interpretation
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver (read 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 your 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.
Mary Oliver is an American poet who won the National Book Award and Pulitzer Prize. A standout feature from her poems is the force of nature, rather than the human world, to give meaning and purpose in life. Her writing is simple, filled with natural imagery, and is one of the most influential poets to have lived.
Reading this poem for the first time pushed me to the verge of tears. Here are three takeaways from this short but powerful piece by the late Mary Oliver.
1. Be gentle with yourself
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.
A restless pursuit of purpose and an innate sense of frustration are two fundamental qualities of the human experience. In times of failure, it is tempting to punish one’s own flaws in the pursuit for moral perfection.
In Wild Geese, Mary Oliver acknowledges this temptation but encourages another approach. With the instruction to …only have to let the soft animal of your body/ love what it loves, Oliver’s message is clear: to turn to nature and follow one’s heart.
Indeed, Oliver’s description of people as soft animals suggests that we simply cannot strive for perfection; that the virtue of life predisposes one to flaws. As Marion Woodman put it,
To strive for perfection is to kill love because perfection does not recognize humanity.
2. Nature as steadfast movement
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.
It’s easy to forget that the world keeps moving even when we stand still.
When I’m bored or tired, I like to go outside and stare at the clouds. It always surprises me how fast the clouds move when you really observe. This practice helps put into perspective where my problems sit in the scope of the Universe and how little they usually matter.
Life and movement is all around us. Perhaps an antidote to the feeling of stagnation and paralysis is to simply surround ourselves with nature – an activity Mary Oliver would undoubtedly encourage.
3. Announcing your place
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.
Here, Mary Oliver marries the reader to nature. Just as one can hear wild geese calling, so too can we hear the world calling us to explore our creativity and unashamedly share our gifts with the world.
Lastly, the last two lines of …announcing your place/ in the family of things promises that our existence has a role to play in the world. That even though our lives can feel lonely, we can find respite in the grandeur of nature.
