The last four lines from the poem Wild Geese are haunting and beautiful. I dropped in the poem below for your reading pleasure.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

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

Waiting for the perfect moment to do something is a form of procrastination.

If you start saying stuff like, “I’ll start when I’m done with whatever I’m doing,” then it’s helpful to define what ‘done’ means. If you don’t explain it, then the definition of ‘done’ will keep morphing into whatever’s on your plate. There are no bookends in daily life.

You have to push the red button and tell the bus driver your stop is coming up, or you will keep on going wherever that bus is heading. That is why you hear people say that getting fired was the best thing that happened to them because it forced them off the wrong bus.

The best part of getting older is that I know what I want and what I enjoy.

The hard part about getting older is that I regret not knowing what I wanted and what I enjoyed when I was young.

Some older souls know what they want from an early age. It’s like they’ve figured it out in a couple of past lives and go straight to the prize as soon as they can.

Others, muddle through and after some thrash and some reversible mistakes, they find their path.

Everyone is on a different learning and discovery trajectory.