I was honored to be included in a reading at the KGB Bar this January. The reading was recorded, and though the video was posted to YouTube quite some time ago, only late last night did I venture to watch it. I watched with a sense of fascinated narcissism and repelled shame, and I was left with a sense of dissatisfaction with my work. So I can make people laugh, big deal, so what?
An hour or so later, at 1 a.m., I was still awake and pacing in our bedroom, trying to settle the mysteriously unsettled Critter in my arms. For some reason (the YouTube video? the fact that I did not write that evening, as I usually do after the Critter goes to bed and before I begin my evening hours of paid work?) all I could think about was that maybe I should just give up poetry altogether, except as a casual thing. Give it up because ... the dissatisfaction is too unsatisfying, the longing too painful.
On the one hand, I don't give up poetry because I doubt that the painful longing would vanish if I did. Quite the opposite: through high school I freely and happily drew and painted on my own, and in college, when I no longer had time to do so, I forgot how; and now, just setting foot inside an art supply store is almost unbearably painful. Surrounded by tools I no longer know how to use, I feel an ache as though from the ghost of a limb I myself tore off.
On the other hand, I see that some part of me (my shitbird, of course) is holding me back. The last statement in Rilke's "Archaic Torso of Apollo" haunts me (and yes, usually in German): Du musst dein Leben ändern. Though I do keep changing my life and giving things up (eating meat, eating sushi, running marathons, holding a regular job, following baseball any more than casually, sleeping eight hours each night), whatever it is that must change seems to remain unchanged.
I am beginning to realize that what must change is actually quite simple and already included in my rules for being a poet: write every day, and trust the process. Like giving myself over to the breath in zazen ...
About Me
- Rachael
- Born in Hartford, Connecticut. Grew up in the suburbs. A New Yorker for fifteen years. Poet. Feminist. An artist's wife and the Critter's mom.
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2 comments:
I wrestle with trust in multiple areas of my life too. Trust in change. Trust in stuckness. Trust in being without judging. So hard to do sometimes. Particularly within the realm of artistic/creative expression. Funny how as we get older we feel more and more pressed to justify what we engage in so easily and freely as children.
I hope the inevitable change that is brings you to a clearer space and that the changes you choose to make mindfully feel positive and productive. I love you.
Thank you for the good wishes! About the feeling that we need to justify our pursuits ... it drives me nuts that I feel that way so often, despite my consciously rejecting utilitarian notions about what kinds of activities are valuable.
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