Mary Oliver challenges us to sense deeply into the mystery. Mary Oliver’s “At the River Clarion” I don’t know who God is exactly. But I’ll tell you this. I was sitting in the river named Clarion, on a water splashed stone and all afternoon I listened to the voices of the river talking. Whenever the water struck a stone it had something to say, and the water itself, and even the mosses trailing under the water. And slowly, very slowly, it became clear to me what they were saying. Said the river I am part of holiness. And I too, said the stone. And I too, whispered the moss beneath the water. I’d been to the river before, a few times. Don’t blame the river that nothing happened quickly. You don’t hear such voices in an hour or a day. You don’t hear them at all if self-hood has stuffed your ears. And it’s difficult to hear anything anyway, through all the traffic, the ambition. 2. If God exists he isn’t just butter and good luck. He’s also th
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