It’s A Whimsical Life
“Whimsy” has stepped into the spotlight. The concept of cultivating “whimsical habits” is lighting up social media, with echoes of similar iterations. Slow living. The Soft Girl Era. Plant ladies. Anything referencing living off the grid.
But maybe whimsy offers a subtly different intention.
From an etymological standpoint, whimsy is rooted in play. The word “whimwham” was used to describe a decorative trinket or a toy in the sixteenth century. Over time, the word evolved to include following an impulse. No matter its context, whimsy has always been used to describe something unnecessary - even fanciful.
When I think of whimsy, I reflect on the creatives who embody its shiniest expression. I believe Mary Oliver was one of literary history’s more whimsical poets. The way Oliver approached poetry (and life generally) offers a practical guide map for people wanting to imbue their lives with more whimsy. Though her life and work hold countless lessons, Oliver offers three powerful pathways for people seeking more playful, creative lives. Or even simply better ones.
Revel in the natural world
By her own admission, Oliver suffered a brutal childhood filled with abuse. She often escaped into the woods. She would spend hours wandering there, and she took this habit with her into adulthood. Oliver famously wrote that, “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” She took the time to notice the landscape. The vegetation. The animals. The signs of humanity, always creeping closer.
For Oliver, the natural world was equal parts inspiration, escape, and an anchor line. Oliver took solace in the intimate knowledge that the world goes on. No matter the hardships of her individual experience, Oliver knew that nature would proceed, unmoved.
As Oliver wrote in “Wild Geese,” “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 order of things.”
Nature has a way of putting our lives into perspective, and whimsy might be our best effort to express our awe for it. While some are already portraying this new whimsy movement as a marketing scheme, Oliver knew that true whimsy doesn’t need a financial investment. Instead, it requires a childlike instinct for wonder. Nature, with its beauty and its rhythm, can be relied upon to nurture that instinct.
Follow your creative impulses
In its earliest stages, Oliver referred to her process of writing poetry as “scribbling.” Her terminology makes me smile (and likely took the pressure off the seeds of her poetry), but the word belies her dedication to her creativity. She rose before sunrise, often walking with a notebook in hand. While wandering in the natural world, Oliver engaged with words as much as she did the world around her.
In Oliver’s A Poetry Handbook, she describes creativity as an access point to a person’s deepest self: the “part of the psyche that works in concert with consciousness and supplies a necessary part of the poem - a heart of the star as opposed to the shape of a star, let us say - exists in a mysterious, unmapped zone: not unconscious, not subconscious, but cautious.”
Oliver knew that whimsy isn’t only reflected in outward displays. True whimsy, whether through play or an impulse to create, is about going inward. It’s understanding that people’s impulses reveal something about the kind of life they want to live and what they believe to be true.
And, of course, the people they wish to be.
Discipline is the portal
Whimsy has a head-in-the-clouds quality. In the 17th century, a “whimling” was a derisive term to describe “a person full of whims.” But Oliver knew that a whimsical life is woven into being through consistent habits. For Oliver, she demonstrated her discipline through her daily routine. She woke early, walked, and wrote every single day. Oliver encouraged students to keep the same “appointment.”
Oliver understood that whimsy finds people only after they’ve shown up to meet it.
While Oliver’s discipline required physical effort (waking early, walking far), she also devoted her life to a mental discipline. She worked to protect her outlook. Despite enduring suffering in her most formative years, Oliver looked for the light throughout her life.
Some believe that this current whimsical movement is a reaction to political unrest, a reflection of general unease at the state of the world. Oliver understood better than most what it means to be a survivor. While she expressed anger for impact of the abuse she suffered and for the “loss of years,” Oliver found her own way forward, saying, “Well, I saved my own life, by finding a place that wasn’t in that house. That was my secret.”
Whimsy, then, can be a counterpoint to the world’s darkness. It’s a form of quiet rebellion. Though we cannot control the assault of the morning’s headlines, we can choose to take a walk. To create something beautiful. To attempt to harness our sense of wonder as soon as it arrives, and to pocket it for later.
In “Poem 102: When Death Comes,” Oliver wrote: “When it’s over, I want to say: all my life / I was a bride married to amazement. / I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.”
Maybe the most whimsical among us will be lucky enough to know that same embrace.
