five things friday: of poetic courage and words of encouragement
Published: Fri, 12/01/23
December 1, 2023
Hello there,
Happy December. There is a
lot of pain in the world, and there are presents to buy. I am ready to pull my special holiday mug out for the season, and keep making space for the hurt of world in the ways I can. Grief and twinkling lights make bittersweet companions.
This week I wrote a poem and remembered how 12 year old me struggled with words. I hope this sharing maybe inspires some loving self witnessing of some
tender places of your own. I hope we all can be seen in our genius by ourselves and others.
Please enjoy.
1.
It has been awhile since a poem came to me:
On a Monday
The sun is slowly melting the frost on the grass
as cold morning air makes its way
through old weather stripping on the windows
of this place where I live
I have a knitted shawl over my lap
and another wrapped around my shoulders
keeping me warm
Stitches cast as a gift from past me
finding their purpose
I wish for a hot cup of tea
but know if I go downstairs before writing
these words will not find their way
Choices
The words are not grand
likely of little interest to anyone but me
but the act of writing them
of allowing this
moment on a Monday
to have space on a page
before the week gains momentum
is an offering
May I remember to be witness
to my own life unfolding
2. I use to think writing poetry was grand thing requiring advanced skills and not to be attempted casually. It is true that really good poetry requires really good skills. Not necessarily the rarefied ones of ivory towers though, but ones of
observation, vulnerability, and edge walking between the mundane and sacred.
I now believe poetry should absolutely be attempted casually. Even cavalierly. Wildly unabashed. With a spirit of humility to wander around making more of a word mess than a masterpiece.
Replace "poetry" with creative desire of your choice.
3. I almost failed junior high English when I refused write a poem. I just couldn't find important enough words for a Poem. Especially one that would be published in
a class collection. I managed to save myself from the "F" last minute and turn in something. A few words that made a small diamond shape I think passed for a visual poem structure. It was a horrible feeling to put something out others would see that was the worst of what it should be.
I barely opened the final collection booklet, too embarrassed to see my
contribution. Oh, how I wish I had that tiny book it now! To see what I wrote (it might have been about a dandelion?), to see what my classmates wrote, to see what I was terrified of. To see that what I thought was a soul embarrassment was surely not.
12 year old me did a brave thing persevering such creative hurt and it took me decades to realize
just how brave it was. I was terrified of the humiliation I was sure would come and did it anyway. While it didn't come from the outside, waves of it crashed over me for years when I even thought about that tiny mustard yellow covered collection of adolescent poetic words.
I wish I had known it didn't have to be good, it just needed to be. I wish I
had known it didn't have to grand, it just needed to real.
4. Some creative victories are a long time coming. Some can only happen with the witnessing and encouragement of others. Any words or creative work I share publicly are the result of this kind of loving witnessing and encouragement. Dear ones saw me capable of more than I would allow
myself to believe and let me know it.
We need each other. Words of encouragement matter. There are so many creatively broken hearts walking around, tentatively gathering courage to share some of their soul with the world. If their art it moves us, we need to let them know. If we see bubbling genius in them they don't trust, we need to let them know this
too.
So much harm done by causal ridicule, not so casual insult, and general meanness that is all to easy to share and spread. Letting people know we see them, appreciate what they do, are moved by the art they make, it heals. It saves.
Comment on the post, send an email, buy the art, what ever moves you. I am taking this on more myself. My awkward social nature often keeps me quietly appreciating the work of others rather than letting them know I see them and that their work matters. Others have extended this grace to me and it has never not mattered. It has never not made me braver to share more.
Knowing we matter, that what we make matters, that us being in the world matters, it is gift we all deserve more of.
Thank you for taking in my words and creative acts. Life is busy. That you take time to be here matters to me in so many ways.
5.
A blessing for your week:
(Woodland Wardens by Jessica Roux)
May you find grace and new life in the upheaval of needed change.
