ࡱ> <>;b Jjbjb{x{x (2H6668n4 (ikkkkkk,RN!PUUUU iUdR@iUUU /C6`UU0U!U!UU66 St. Lukes Prayer Bibliography Devotional Books Brooke, Avery, Plain Prayers for a Complicated World Readers Digest, Distributed by Thomas Y. Crowell, Co.,New York: 1975. Casey, Karen and Martha Vanceburg, The Promise of a New Day: A Book of Daily Meditations. Hazelden Foundation, Center City, MN.: 1983. Collected Prayers. Privately Printed-Episcopal Diocese of Delware. Daily Book f Common Prayer: Readings and Prayers through the Year. Compiled by Owen Collins, Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., Grand Rapids, Michigan: 2000. DeMello, Anthony, Praying Body and Soul. Crossroad Publishing Co., New York: 1998. The Way to Love. Doubleday, New York: 1992. deWaal, Esther, ed., Daily Readings from Prayers & Praises in the Celtic Tradition. Templegate Publishers, Springfield, Il.: 1986. DeVinck, Catherine, A Book of Uncommon Prayers, Alleluia Press, Allendale, N.J.: 1976. DeVinck, Catherine, Through the Gateless Gate, Alleluia Press, Allendale, N.J.: 1996. McGinnis, Lois, A Small Guide to Peace: Practical Spirituality for Anyone. Fruit-Bearer Publishing, Georgetown,De.: 2004. Naegele, Rev. Bede, .C.D. Minute Meditations for Each Day. Catholic Book Publishing Co., New York: 1982. Roberts, Elizabeth and Elias Amidon, eds. Earth Prayers from Around the World:365 Prayers, Poems, and Invocations for Honoring the Earth. Harper Collins Publishers, New York: 1991. Celtic Daily Prayer: A Northumbrian Office, compiled by Andy Raine and John T. Skinner of the Northumbria Community, Harper Collins, New York: 1994. Lifting Womens Voices: Prayers to Change the World, Margaret Rose, Jenny Te Paa, Jeanne Person, Abagail Nelson, eds. Morehouse Publishing, New York: 2009. Wild Geese 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. Mockingbirds This morning two mockingbirds in the green field were spinning and tossing the white ribbons of their songs into the air. I had nothing better to do than listen. I mean this seriously. In Greece, a long time ago, an old couple opened their door to two strangers who were, it soon appeared, not men at all, but gods. It is my favorite story-- how the old couple had almost nothing to give but their willingness to be attentive-- but for this alone the gods loved them and blessed them-- when they rose out of their mortal bodies, like a million particles of water from a fountain, the light swept into all the corners of the cottage, and the old couple, shaken with understanding, bowed down-- but still they asked for nothing but the difficult life which they had already. And the gods smiled, as they vanished, clapping their great wings. Wherever it was I was supposed to be this morning-- whatever it was I said I would be doing-- I was standing at the edge of the field-- I was hurrying through my own soul, opening its dark doors-- I was leaning out; I was listening. The Journey One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice-- though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at your ankles. "Mend my life!" each voice cried. But you didn't stop. You knew what you had to do, though the wind pried with its stiff fingers at the very foundations, though their melancholy was terrible. It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do-- determined to save the only life you could save. "Mary Oliver's poetry is an excellent antidote for the excesses of civilization," wrote one reviewer for the Harvard Review, "for too much flurry and inattention, and the baroque conventions of our social and professional lives. She is a poet of wisdom and generosity whose vision allows us to look intimately at a world not of our making." Her honors include an American Academy of Arts & Letters Award, a Lannan Literary Award, the Poetry Society of America's Shelley Memorial Prize and Alice Fay di Castagnola Award, and fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. Oliver held the Catharine Osgood Foster Chair for Distinguished Teaching at Bennington College until 2001. She currently lives in Provincetown, Massachusetts. HYPERLINK "http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/265"http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/265 Poetic Identity Mary Olivers poetry is grounded in memories of Ohio and her adopted home of New England. Influenced by both Whitman and Thoreau, she is known for her clear and poignant observances of the natural world. Her poems are filled with imagery from her daily walks near her home in Provincetown, Massachusetts: shore birds, water snakes, the phases of the moon and humpback whales. Maxine Kumin calls Oliver "a patroller of wetlands in the same way that Thoreau was an inspector of snowstorms" and "an indefatigable guide to the natural world." Oliver has also been compared to Emily Dickinson, with whom she shares an affinity for solitude and interior monologues. Her poetry combines dark introspection with joyous release. Although she has been criticized for writing poetry that assumes a dangerously close relationship of women with nature, she finds the self is only strengthened through an immersion with nature. As her creativity is stirred by nature, Oliver is an avid walker, pursuing inspiration on foot. For Oliver, walking is part of the poetic process. Oliver is also known for her unadorned language and accessible themes. HYPERLINK "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Oliver"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Oliver "2Bg6Gxy&;r ! 5 O  a 9 f . b|h<=efh» hoo#h}hHh}0Jjh}U h~h} h%h} hDh} hrj8h} hm^lh} h9/ch}h' h}CJaJh#Dh}CJaJh mh}>*CJaJh}>*CJaJh}CJaJh}3"36yh! x H f # gd}HI# V k A`=b{|,8gd}8CDO`n%7J^q3@gd}@ax2A\k .AXigd},DRf8Iaw\gd}\ghghiyEFGHIJgd}hCDEGHIJhG[h}CJaJ hoJ h}hHh}0Jh}jh}U h0Ah} &1h:p}/ =!8"#$%D@D  '[NormalCJ_HaJmH sH tH DA@D Default Paragraph FontRiR 0 Table Normal4 l4a (k( 0No List 6U@6 @6 Hyperlink >*B*ph4@4 }Header  !4 @4 }Footer  !J2 z z z z z z 3 \J    "36yh!xHf#VkA` = b { |    , 8 C D O ` n  % 7 J ^ q   3 @ a x   2 A \ k  .AXi,DRf8Iaw\ghghiyEFGHK0ˀ00000000000000000ˀ0ˀ0ˀ0ˀ0ˀ0ˀ0ˀ0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000ˀ0000ˀ0000ˀ000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000ˀ0ˀ0ˀ0ˀ000ˀ0ˀ00000 0hJ# 8@\JI<eCJXX\(# AA@0(  B S  ? pw!(x2?HOHK\cHK-/Ixr<?VZAD = A b d    # 8 A O P ` b n t   % ' 7 : J M ^ a q u     3 8 @ C a d x }   A C k r   $.3AGX]il,2DGfl!8=ISaewyHK:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::GK@ ŷfJ` @UnknownGTimes New Roman5Symbol3 ArialS.{ @CalibriLucida Grande"qhƦ ,= 4p!8>4=B3HX  $P mDonnaBonnie Watters Oh+'0\   $ 0<DLT'DonnaNormalBonnie Watters2Microsoft Word 11.5.6@F#@,!@,! ՜.+,D՜.+,8 hp  'Hewlett-Packard,   Title\ 8@ _PID_HLINKS'A 7N)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_OliverXN)http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/265  !"#$%&'()*,-./012456789:=Root Entry F1?1Table!WordDocument(2SummaryInformation(+DocumentSummaryInformation83CompObjXObjectPool11 FMicrosoft Word DocumentNB6WWord.Document.8