Mary Oliver said: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

So as an ode to her, to you, to me, to life... inspired by her poem I wrote:

What will you do, with this one wild and precious life—this breath that keeps choosing you, again and again?

Will you spend it shrinking, flirting at the edges of your light, trying to make yourself a little less full, a little more acceptable?

Or will you open—wide as sunrise, tender as dawn breaking over your own heart and let the miracle move through you, unapologetically alive?

Let yourself receive.

There are birds singing somewhere, even now. The ocean has never stopped roaring, calling.

You are not here to be perfect. You are here to remember the sound of your own soul when it laughs.

So go. Run barefoot toward wonder. Touch everything with reverence. Let your heart be the altar and your body the prayer.

Because this—this trembling, holy now—is your one wild, and precious life.

What will you do with this one wild and precious life—this breath that was dreamed into you by the Infinite, this pulse that is God remembering Itself through your form?

Will you hide your light under the weight of being understood or will you burn, uncontained, a living prayer of becoming?

The trees already know how. The sea doesn't ask permission to shimmer. Every bird is an echo of permission you keep forgetting to give yourself.

You were never meant to move through this world quietly. You were meant to shake it awake with your Yes, to let the holiness spill out of your mouth when you feel, to love so deeply it resurrects everything it touches.

So go—step barefoot into the mystery. Let the wind rewrite your story. Let your joy be a psalm. Let your body remember it is sacred ground.

Because this, my friend, this trembling, golden, only moment of Now is your one wild and precious life in this form.