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. --Mary Oliver, Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
Nothing relieves people at the start of a class or a meeting so much as hearing this: you do not have to be good.
No doubt our ancestors felt the pressure of needing to be good as measured against neighbors or god or the arc of a life they read about in a book. Add to that, for those of us who live now, the megaphone our connected world hands our inner critic.
The class I teach, the job I have, the meeting I run, the day I live?
Are they good? Am I?
How can I measure up when I live in a search engine of measurements?
How do I run through the desert in a world built on speed?
Well, remember:
You do not have to be good.
Sure, have a good class.
Have a good meeting. Have a good day.
Because the poem does not say is it bad to be good.
It says: You do not have to be good.
It says the thing you have to do is:
. . . let the soft animal of your body love what it loves
The kitten of yourself?
The puppy of who you want to be?
When was the last time you let that animal love what it loves?