In her piercing poem "Once Only," Denise Levertov reminds us that all which was "flame and song and granted us joy" cannot be revisited, even though we may wish to go back.

"... the marvelous
did happen in our lives, our stories
are not drab with its absence: but don't
expect now to return for more."

How easy it is to slip into that state of mind -- or state of "mine" -- in which we want to gather a moment of joy between closed knuckles and preserve it forever, always to return and dip into its bounty! But in our own lives -- and even more tellingly, in the life of our planet -- what we bind to ourselves gets crushed. We have only one real and vital option, as William Blake famously observed. He or she who "kisses the joy as it flies, lives in eternity's sunrise."

"As it flies" happens quickly ... often much too quickly for our tastes, our reflexes, and our ability to assimilate what has happened. Levertov nudges us to be on the lookout: "Try to acknowledge the next song in its body-halo of flames as utterly present, as now or never."

How fitting her insight is for this week of Earth Day, too! What are we overlooking that may never come again?

This week, take these three words -- "now or never" -- as if they were the sound of a dawn bird's song lifting you out of sleep. Say them to yourself whenever you can. Post them on your mirror or another place where you know you will see them. Use them to lift yourself into this moment of pristine awareness: of your own precious life, of what it means to be human, and of our call to care for our life-giving Earth.

Blessings,