Wild Geese | 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
in the family of things.
Last summer during my final night in Zambezi, we spent this time writing notes to everyone in our group. Jeff Dodd, in his note to me, wrote “Read Wild Geese by Mary Oliver when you’re ready – it will touch you.”
It took me about two weeks after returning home to finally Google Wild Geese. When I did read the poem, I just bawled. I read it, and my stomach twisted and turned and then settled. It gave shape to a feeling that had always been there, now finally put into words in a moment of coming home. Once again, I felt something I had known since I was young: a deep connection to humanity. Zambia had opened that journey even further, and now I finally had words for it.
In Zambezi, this connection often comes through humanity’s beautiful interruptions, the unexpected moments that call us to pay attention, to sit down, to share space. And in that moment back home, I found myself pausing in the middle of a hot Spokane day, letting myself be interrupted, just how I had in Zambezi. I stopped striving, I stopped rushing, and I simply let the words of Wild Geese interrupt me with Oliver’s quiet truth. That pause, that stillness, was a return to everything Zambezi taught me: to be open, to be present, to be human.
I feel deeply honored to write on this blog once again and even more so to share in the Zambezi experience with the ZamFam 2025. The day I got the call from Jeff asking if I wanted to join this trip was, coincidentally, the same day I had recalled something my spiritual director once said: “Be interruptible.” In Zambezi, being “interruptible” feels like a natural rhythm, one that contrasts sharply with the pace of life in the United States. When Jeff asked, I said YES. And in that moment, I was flooded with gratitude for my previous experience in Zambia, which taught me how to pause, to accompany, and to be interruptible when humanity calls.
In Zambezi, I feel myself called into a place of pause, a space where we breathe in and out and rest in the stillness between. That pause is where humanity is invited in. It’s where we soften into the animal of our bodies and love what it loves. It’s also where we can be interrupted, lovingly and abundantly, harshly and unexpectedly. In my faith tradition, Jesus calls me to be interruptible. Time and again, when we allow ourselves to be interrupted and called beyond ourselves, we find space to take refuge in the cave of our hearts, a space where humanity longs to see and know itself. In that recognition, we are brought closer to our divine selves.
In Zambezi, this invitation becomes real. Life moves differently here, not according to rigid schedules or expectations but through presence, relationship, and what we might see as an interruption as a sacred invitation, an opening to connection, grace, and shared humanity. Conversations on the dusty roads back from or to the market, unexpected invitations into homes, or moments of shared laughter and stillness all feel like sacred pauses or intuitions, opportunities to be drawn out of ourselves and into deeper connection. In Zambezi, I am reminded that being interruptible is not a disruption to the journey, it is the journey.
So here I am! Lucia Doty is on the journey again!
About a week ago, I was delighted to reunite with two of my favorite humans in Zambezi: Chi Chi and Priscilla. These two girls are truly rays of light and continue to introduce me to Zambezi in new and beautiful ways. A couple of days after we reunited, I remembered it was Chi Chi’s birthday, so we decided to plan a little outing, wandering through the market together, walking around, and of course, picking up some chocolate.
As we began our journey, I was once again in awe of the way these girls navigate the market. It shouldn’t surprise me, this is their home, but still, the sheer number of people they greet and wave to amazes me. Right as we left the convent, Chi Chi waved to a woman standing outside her home and said, “That’s my Auntie.” I smiled and replied, “I want to meet people too. Will you introduce me next time?”
I should’ve known that invitation would open the door to a long, joy-filled day together. We made our way through the market, with the occasional “chindele” called out in my direction. Chi Chi and Priscilla made sure to tell me that no one is taunting or embarrassing me. “We just have to laugh,” Chi Chi said. “It’s all play.” And so we laughed together. Later, Chi Chi brought me to meet her mom, who owns a hair salon in town. It was such a blessing to meet her and to tell her how much I love her daughter.
Once we had made our rounds, Priscilla turned to me and said it was time to go back to their homes for dinner and that I was invited. I walked with her and the other girls to her house, where I was warmly welcomed by Priscilla’s grandmother, who was sitting on a mat outside cracking groundnuts. I then met Priscilla’s mom, who greeted me with a big smile and a hug. She noticed her daughter nibbling on some of the chocolate we’d bought, and I suddenly felt foolish for arriving empty-handed.
Quickly, I pulled the extra Cadbury bar from my fanny pack, and I saw her eyes light up. Without words, she motioned for us to trade: the chocolate bar for a bag of groundnuts. I happily agreed.
After that, Chi Chi waved us over to her house, conveniently located right next door to her side kick and best friend Priscilla. She welcomed me inside and, in true Zambian fashion, motioned for me to sit right next to her older sister Dorothy and Dorothy’s 6-month-old baby, Precious. Dorothy was eating nshima, chicken, and rape (a leafy green), and just as I settled in, Priscilla came up to me with a pitcher of warm water and a bowl so I could wash my hands. Accepting this simple act of care, what felt like radical hospitality, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. Before I could blink, a full plate of nshima, chicken, and rape was placed in front of me.
As I sat and ate, I began chatting with Dorothy. We talked about her job as a midwife, her hopes for her wedding, the loss of her father, how many children she wants, and even how going through childbirth for her went. I showed her photos of my boyfriend, Alex, my college roommates, and my family. We talked about how I am excited to move to a new city and my excitement about graduating from university.
And through it all, Dorothy kept looking me straight in the eye and saying, “Eat more.”
So I did, hesitantly at first, because I honestly wasn’t hungry. But there I was, stuffing my face with nshima and sharing a chicken bone with Dorothy. This was communion. This was the Welcome Table, where we sit side by side, share what we have, and remember what it means to be human.
In this case, being fully human for me means taking a seat at what my favorite theologian Dr. Shawn Copeland has described as the Welcome Table. The Welcome Table where all are welcome. The Welcome Table embodies the shared endeavor of understanding what it means to be human and invites humans to cultivate a relationality rooted in solidarity and accompaniment, rather than in roles, binaries, or hierarchies. This requires a mindset that takes embodiment seriously, honors diversity of many cultures, and centers on mutual accompaniment. In Zambia this second time, why not open up our understanding of humanity to a broader process, one that is going on consciously and unconsciously in people’s daily lives, amid the “ordinary” things that make up the fabric of our lives. In Zambezi, this is the rhythm. Priscilla, Chi Chi, and Dorothy welcomed me into their rhythm of life so seamlessly.
Alex, my guy, thank you for your love and support through my decision process to come. You have been my rock as I have navigated this journey again. I love you! You are so awesome and I can’t wait to reunite.
To my Mom, Dad and George, thank you thank you thank you for all your love and support as I have made the choice to go on this journey of human life again. I miss spending time with you all. Everyday there are people here that remind me of all of you. I have the best family ever. I am so grateful.
To my whole extended family! I can not wait to see you all soon.
All my beautiful friends. I love you. You know who you are.
My ZamFam 2024, thank you all for making my experience so enriching that I was eager to come back again. Like Emily said, even back here again, I still can’t put it exactly into words what my first go around meant to me. I love that part of it though. I love you all so much and everyday I am reminded of the community we built. I am forever grateful.
Love,
Lucia Doty (Loosh)
Zambia TA 2025
hi.
Loosh what an amazing look into your second experience in Zambezi, I cannot wait to hear all about it. That poem is so beautiful and powerful and such an encompassing description of the truth felt in Zambezi. (currently on the verge of tears in the Seattle PwC office). It brings me so much joy to hear that you have continued on fun adventures with Chi Chi and Priscilla (wish Chi Chi a late happy bday from me). I was truly inspired by your relationship with them last year.
I want to thank you for how you transformed my Zambezi experience last year and I can consistently feel the impact I know you are making this year through little elements within the blog. Thank you for always creating Welcome Table and inspiring me and others to live a life grounded in faith, love, accompaniment and solidarity.
Love,
Charlie
Meep
Meeeep
Lucia, what a gift you are. Thank you (again) for being there and saying yes to Jeff’s call. All these open-hearted, open-door’d people you’re all encountering blow me away. Is there *anyone* rude or indifferent in Zambezi? It sounds like the land of welcome-table after welcome-table. A stark contrast to closed-door/putting-my-phone-on-do-not-disturb culture here. You have me looking at my own heart, how I may often actively and less-consciously participate in (crave?) disconnection. And how annoyed I often feel when interrupted! Thank you for these lessons. We are taking them in.
Mia, Lucia’s post had me thinking about your spiritual director of a grandma, Nonnie, and how much she loved (like, LOVED) Mary Oliver’s poetry, too. Well done on chasing another sunset. What a beautiful photo of you all, you river-crossers, you!
A brief(er) comment today simply to prove I’m (finally?) capable of one. 😉 Thank you again for your beautiful post, Lucia. I’m glad our Zags will have you around for one last year of yours on campus before you graduate.
4:33 PM in Oakland. 1:33 AM in Zambezi.
xoxo,
Elisa (Mia’s Mama)
1-2-3
Lucia! Duh. You just graduated and we knew that! Pardon me, there. Wishful thinking our Zags would continue to have you around for another year! 🙂
Hi Lucia,
Another beautifully written posts. Zags in Zambezi – all of your words have given us a glimpse of the transformative experience you have been going through. They have made me laugh, cry (often), and contemplate my own views of the world. Being interruptible is a skill and a gift that I personally need to cultivate.
To my dearest Kathleen – I am literally counting down the hours until I can feast my eyes upon the sight of your beautiful smile, wrap my arms around you, and learn all about your amazing experiences – love you with all of my heart. Mom
Some of you know that Lucia called the Gonzaga graduation coordinator no less than 5 times to MAKE SURE that her name was pronounced correctly when she accepted her diploma. Truth is that we went back and change it to Lucia after getting to know her for about a week. Lucia means Light. The red hair was a shocker. The peaceful glow of her was a site to behold indeed – this little glow that we see ignited in oh so many ways So: Sorry/Not sorry, Loosh. Your ability to adjust your light is crucial as well as we lift up others. There should be a word for that – adjusting your light to give others the gift of being of service. We do not need martyrs: we need warriors!
All of you: thank you for holding Lucia. Take some risks and let your light be a gift to yourself and others. And shine brightly, even fiercely in the face of injustice and systems that are not acceptable: Please. We need you.
Know that you are enough. Not going so well here at the moment for our brothers and sisters who are being persecuted. So: take care of your divine selves. No rush. Come home, and, when you are ready, be the change.
I love you, sweet kind and fiery Lucia. Every single part of you is sacred.
Mom
PS: What does Meep mean? Lol
Great post Lucia… so vivid I could picture myself right with you at the Welcome Table!
Caroline M – we can’t wait to see you and give you big hugs in just 4 short days! We love seeing your smiling face in these group photos. (Emoji: Love You, Shaka, Rock On, I win) – Big Guy
My sweet Loosh! You amaze me!
I remember your face wincing as chi chi and Priscilla did your hair outside the convent last year and you sharing how much having others do your hair has weaved its way through your relationships. Not because it is something you enjoy (quite the opposite if I remember correctly) but because it creates space for relationship. It is beautiful to watch your relationship with chi chi and Priscilla grow all from your yes to get your hair done last summer.
And now your yes to this experience again, your ability to be interruptible is continuing to create space for relationship. Loosh, thank you for teaching me to be interruptible and to always put humans first. Your heart and many hi texts help me bridge the lessons of accompaniment I learned in Zambezi with everyday life when we returned to Spokane and beyond. Market trips and watching the sunrise turned trader joes trips and Tuesday dinners. Thank you for being you.
I love you so much and I can’t wait to hear everything when you return!
Love,
Em
My loosh, you have the most beautiful heart. I love reading about your time in Zambezi and all the wonderful people you are meeting. I remember you telling me that it was a possibility that you may come back to Zambezi this summer, and the excitement on your face was so vivid. Although that meant I wouldn’t be able to see my best friend for a bit, I am so happy you got to come back this summer and reconnect with friends you made and contribute to something so meaningful. Your soul is healing to be around, and i’m sure everyone around you feels the same way. I love you looshy, you are amazing!!!!!
– gi
Hi Lucia
I am so incredibly proud of you and your work. You are such an incredible light in everyone’s life who you touch and I am so glad you have gotten to spread it so far and so wide. I cannot wait until you come back and I can hear about all of your wonderful accomplishments and experiences because you are truly the best story teller. I love you so so so much and I am so proud of the person you are and have become . You are so special miss lucia Doty!! I love you!!
Finish strong Lucia, can’t wait to hear more when you’re back
Love,
Alex
Lucia, your words opened something in me I didn’t quite know how to explain. This idea of being “interruptible” — of pausing, receiving, noticing — resonates so deeply. I find myself increasingly longing for more intentionality in my own life, to slow down and create more welcome tables, both figurative and real. Reading your post reminded me that it is possible. That sacred connection, that shared humanity, isn’t far from reach — it simply requires my willingness to see, to soften, and to offer space. Like you described with Chi Chi and Priscilla — laughter echoing through the market, the groundnuts exchanged for chocolate, the care of warm water and a shared plate — these moments are not small. They are everything.
And at that Welcome Table you so beautifully wrote about, I see the embodiment of all that is good in this world. Thank you for bringing us into that space with your storytelling. Thank you for reminding me to return — again and again — to the kind of living that honors stillness, relationship, and grace.
And Caroline M— I am literally counting the hours until I get to see your sweet smile in person. Enjoy every single minute you have left with your Zambezi and Zag family. Be fully there. Be interruptible. I can’t wait to hear all the stories you bring home in your heart.
With deep gratitude,
Sarah Murphy (Carolne M’s Mom)
“In Zambezi, I am reminded that being interruptible is not a disruption to the journey, it is the journey.” Gosh…being interruptible truly IS the the journey and I have to remind myself of this daily. Teaching second grade sure does give me a lot of practice and man do I mess it up most of the time! It has been such a blessing to read of a community where interruptions are seen as sacred invitations and to read your stories of connection. They are inspiring and make me want to take a deep breath, slow down, and channel some of that ability to pause. Thank you Lucia!!
Taylor- Ann said that if she catches a heavenly hot dog at the Mariner’s game or gets on the jumbotron she doesn’t have to make up the class she will miss while we are in Seattle so prepare yourself for some “mom antics” upon your return! Nothing more than you are used to I guess. Love that you are soaking up all of those sunsets. Every picture of you just makes my whole day. Love you sweetie!!
Loosh,
What another amazing experience for you! I remember when we did our homestays with Loveness and Shanice and we felt awkward at first, but then we just opened up to them! They welcomed us to the table and showed us what it means to be human, to be open and curious. You also welcomed me to the table by letting me share about my struggles and you listened to every word, asking questions with curiosity. You made me feel heard and I will never forget that. You are the most compassionate, beautiful, and loving person and I’m so proud of you! Enjoy your last few days and I can’t wait to hear about your time there!
Love,
Ellie Powers, ZamFam ‘24
Thank you all for your wonderful posts! I’ve been reading them each day, even though I haven’t been responding. I have a bit of catching up to do.
Lucia, thank you for this beautiful reflection. I loved reading about how the rhythm of life in Zambezi continues to shape your experience. It was nice to know that Sarah was able to be part of that sunset moment. I imagine it was one of those simple, sacred pauses you so beautifully described. Your words about being interruptible, not as a disruption, but as the journey itself, really resonated. I hope that all of you are able to carry that rhythm of life – the pauses, the presence, the deep connection with you when you return home. What a gift this experience is.
Mama Katendi, thank you for sharing your story. I am Sarah’s mom. I am so grateful for the way you teach and nurture the students, both in the kitchen and through the example of your life. I know Sarah will always remember the meals you prepared with love and the lessons you offered beyond the recipes. Thank you for all that you do for the students, for welcoming them into your community, and for the incredible example of perseverance and self-respect that you model.
Ellie, thank you so much for sharing these reflections. As a parent, it is moving to read about the ways you are all learning to embrace the unknown and the depth of humanity you’re witnessing. I can only imagine how these experiences will continue to shape you all in ways that unfold over time.
Sarah, I know your time in Zambezi is coming to a close, and you’ll be traveling soon. While Dad and I are getting more and more excited to see you, I can only imagine you might be feeling a mix of emotions about leaving. Just remember, always connected…, and you’ll carry these experiences and relationships in your heart forever. Safe travels to the whole Zag family! See you on Monday, Sarah!
Sarah, it’s amazing to read the posts and think of your involvement with the community and your peers discussing the similarities and differences that you all share. I can’t wait for your million stories and the names of the people you’ve met and shared these experiences with! I love you and see you soon!!! 🙂
Dad
Well, like Kim ahead of me, I have some catching up to do …. will try to do so with some brief comments!
Ellie, as a fellow planner, I agree that it is so hard to “embrace the unknown”. Thank you for the reminder and the challenge to be open to what could be the most unexpected and treasured experiences. Thanks also for the chuckle when we read about the “chatty bunch – 17 girls + Sean” !! Love this!
Mama Katendi, We so appreciate the love and care that you have given to our children. Thank you for opening up your home and your heart to them and accompanying them on their journey. I can’t to hear about Sean’s new favorite dishes!
Lucia, such truth in your writing! Yes, another challenge — to be interruptible. To be open to experiencing the moment, putting aside all the other things that we think we are supposed to be doing. Reminds me of the Mary and Martha story — Sean will attest to how much I struggle with that one. May we all find our way to be like Mary and “choose the better part” by being open and present to the now.
Sean, fun little learning the other day — just got tix for the Dance Elite recital, as one of my students will be performing. Looked on the website and discovered that the current hip hop teacher is named Logan and used to dance on Bomb Squad! (So looking forward to being able to send a quick text to share those things with you!)
My son (and all of the ZamFam) I can’t imagine all you must be feeling at this time. All the different emotions – all jumbled together. Continue to enjoy each moment – soak it all up and experience it all deeply – Moments to be treasured for a lifetime. See you all soon!
What a beautiful post. So much to reflect on. I’m touched by the words of your spiritual director “ be interruptible.” Thank you for sharing your experience of radical hospitality with Priscilla’s family. I felt like I was right there with you, invited into the “Welcome Table.” True communion.
I’ve not been “interruptible” these past weeks caught up in my own little world of moving and I’ve missed the opportunity to connect with my precious granddaughter (Mia) and all of you.
Thank you for reminding me of what’s really important and the blessings of connection.
Paul Dumesnil (Mia’s grandad aka Choppy)
Lucia – Thank you for deciding to accompany our students and go on this trip a 2nd time. There is no doubt that your presence has had a huge impact on our kids and helped them to find a little more ease during the times of discomfort in adjusting to their new environment. I’ve been away from the blog for a few days now and got caught up reading the last three posts and again I’m so incredibly moved by all of you. Your adventurous spirits, the revelations that you are all having and your commitment to understanding others different from yourselves is incredibly inspiring. It gives me so much hope to know that there are young people like all of you who want to pause, reflect, grow and find communion.
To Natalie – I’m so honored to be your mom and to learn from all that you have experienced on this trip. I can’t wait to have you back home in just a few more days, but hope that you soak in every last moment that you are there. I love you!
hey girlllll! i miss you so much! cannot wait for you to come home and tell me all about your trip, hopefully we can chit chat over some coloring in the sun. me and the fam miss you very much, sorry it took me so long to respond i got a new job i can’t wait to tell you about! anyways hope you are well and having the best time! xoxoxo mariska <3 (going to load up your tik tok dms for the safe travels home, ily!)
Lucia, the concept of the Welcome Table is such a beautiful one. I’m struck by how you described communion not as a formal ritual, but as something embodied and ordinary: a shared meal, a shared moment, a shared life. There’s something sacred in the simplicity of eating nshima and passing a chicken bone with Dorothy. That image lingers because it reminds us that holiness is often found in the humble, in the unpolished, in the everyday.
ZamFam’25, it’s been an absolute joy to read your reflections these past three weeks. Each post has been rich with heart, humility, and growth—proof of the profound impact this journey has had on every one of you. Your words paint a beautiful picture of what it means to step outside of your comfort zones and into community, compassion, and shared humanity.
Mia, we miss you at home, but what a gift to witness your light shining halfway across the world. I couldn’t be prouder of the person you are. I know these moments and relationships will stay with you for a lifetime. Enjoy these last precious days, soak in every moment, and hold close the connections you’ve made. We can’t wait to hear your stories in person, and to keep learning from your perspective and spirit when you’re back.
Love you lots!
Stephanie (Mia’s stepmom)
Loosh, I am speechless, and for me? Now, that is saying something! “To pause, to accompany, and to be interruptible … where we breathe in and out” is the disciplined practice I have witnessed in you. You REALLY listen — to others (so care-fully and companionably), to yourself (with authentic, discerning intentionality), and to place (both culturally and geographically). These instruct you and I have the honor to eaves-drop time and time again. You continue to instruct and wow me, Loosh. How precious you are to me.
I cannot wait for a very long walk-n-talk, or setting the Table for our reunion. <3