Today I talked with starfish and with seaside cliffs, who told me not to be afraid— not even to be afraid of being afraid, and I know they’ve been hit with some shit in their days, over and over the pounding of waves. Salt blasts in. Salt slips away. Can I shine like basalt and stay, stay, stay?
I am never more delighted than when I learn a delightful new word. Yesterday it was "subsong," which (usually) refers to soft, unstructured vocalizations made by young birds as they're learning to sing. Subsong includes a lot of mimicry and (an adorable detail) is typically made from dense cover, as if the bird is embarrassed.
.
Anyhow, subsong is how I feel about the various forms of art I'm trying to practice right now.
Rebekah, your poem and posts always enlighten, expand and entertain me, and make me smile, cry and ponder. Subsong--what a gem! I searched and found wonderful descriptions, and even a piece on the difference between subsongs and whisper songs. Goodness. There is a whole prompt in this new word!
Of course, when I see your comments and it is followed by your incredibly powerful, unique and astounding poetry, I feel so grateful, so blessed, and so alive. I am still riffling softly in the brush.
"Letting the world below / Wrestle and strive / As I forget its meaning." Beautiful! This captures something I think about a lot, which is the need to be willing and able to zoom in close (feel every feeling, witness every suffering, do the nitty gritty work of love) and also to zoom way out, to feel yourself onto the top of that mountain, to hold all the suffering within a larger perspective.
THis is splendid, Korie! IMlove the entire poem, and these lines "Sitting atop the peak/Of a mountain’s climb,/Staring with wonder/At the mighty imagination/Dreaming this beauty/Into existence,/Letting the world below/Wrestle and strive/As I forget its meaning."
This brought me right to the mountaintop, and it felt as if you had peeked into my heart and soul and found the words unable to be released and gave them freedom. Thank you!
Allie, thank you for sharing this beautiful poem! “rejuvenation is a process / An unraveling before an integration” - I love this (and so many other lines) so much!
Allie, this is such a rich, moving and evocative poem. I like the lines Lisa and Nelly noted, and these few "The ocean pays prostrations to the shore./The clouds kiss the mountains' crests./And at the edges of earths atmosphere/All manner of celestial bodies dance/All inside the body of the Universe..."
These spoke to me immediately--brought me to the shore, the mountain and back to the inner universe of my own heart. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
I love the idea of haiku as penance and the way you redirect towards creativity.
I'm not sure I am growing. I feel like I'm in winter stasis. Hibernation. Everything slowed down, waiting for spring and warm. Energy stored in buds, inaccessible now. Or maybe there is some quiet, hidden growth, that I'm not even aware of. Today I read that they are starting to tap the sugar maples, which means the sap is rising. Roots quietly reaching down, life quietly flowing up. Maybe spring isn't quite so far away. The world is full of snow but I saw a robin perched on a line. It sang a couple of notes, dropped a poop, and then flew away. I've been reading that snow is a good fertilizer, delivering nitrogen to the soil.
Thank you, Lisa. I'm struggling to come to terms with wintering as growth. it feels so natural in the world out there and so hard to apply kindly to myself. I've been reading and pondering Katherine May's Wintering, but it really is a revolutionary idea. Hard to wrap my soul around.
We all have a lot of cultural messaging and socialization stacked against us here! My body did the hard work for me when it came to learning to winter (and learning to value that wintering). I got suddenly very sick in March 2020 (long covid), and for a long time, rest was pretty much the only thing I could do. And yet so much happened inside of me in that comparatively inert space. I feel like the seed nourished by that forced rest is still growing, still blooming, still surprising me.
I love this. It made me laugh to read that you're writing haikus as penance, and I love that you and Keith worked that out together.
I have been finding recently that I'm able to access more gentleness with myself and others. I think it's because instead of being on social media, I've mostly been slow-reading and annotating a couple of really joyful books, and connecting with a few friends.
Our house was hit with illness again this week and I've felt surprisingly capable even with the extra anxiety and exhaustion. I've been speaking really kindly to myself, and I feel really proud of it. (Oh and also I started therapy this week, and I think just knowing that I'll have that regular outlet is a huge weight off)
Reading an actual book feels so good and nourishing, doesn’t it? I wish I could make all of this Substack goodness somehow appear on bound pages instead!
I’m sorry to hear you all are dealing with sickness again. Kids are such adorable little germ factories - our schools are flooded with flu at the moment, so I’m trying to make peace with the near inevitable imminence of another round of illness in our household too. How cool to notice a shift in how you’re holding it! And yay for starting therapy and giving yourself a sacred outlet just for you! I hope it’s lovely and nourishing and everything you want it to be.
Yes, thanks Lisa for another prompt in the wide world of prompts. What isn't a prompt? I posted it with a title. I don't care if haikus aren't supposed to have titles.
I am late to the ferry dock this week, and Lisa, your lovely poem and delightful prompt have been with me through the twists and bends. I love that Keith and you are holding each other acocuntable, and that writing Haikus are the "punishment" for doom scrolling. Can we apply that to the media, the politicos and the designers of this madness? If they had to stop and fashion a haiku befpore spewing more absurdity, perhaps we could be spared much of it?
At any rate, somewhow, wondering what the future holds, Max and the Wild thigns came to mind.
^
When Max was banished to his bedroom
he found the seam and shuffled to a magical place,
delicious and delightful wild beings that simply wanted
This is so whimsical and evoactive, Larry! I love the image of you as Max, whispering into the darkness, inviting the wild things out. And this notion "that they are often one and the same" - maybe all of our dichotomies are false - really speaks to me.
I love the idea of writing a haiku every time I start to open the NYT app to check on the latest horror. I'm also struggling with finding that balance being being engaged and taking time to nurture joy.
I am never more delighted than when I learn a delightful new word. Yesterday it was "subsong," which (usually) refers to soft, unstructured vocalizations made by young birds as they're learning to sing. Subsong includes a lot of mimicry and (an adorable detail) is typically made from dense cover, as if the bird is embarrassed.
.
Anyhow, subsong is how I feel about the various forms of art I'm trying to practice right now.
.
I am quiet, to be sure. To hear me,
you will first need to enter
my chosen acre, where my feet
paint lines from house to
garden to forest. You will need to
tilt your head past dogbark and
jaysquawk, place your hand on
the earth even. Only then may you
feel the faint rumble
that signifies I am near,
humming or stringing words
together, drawing, dropping bits
of color into a world as unformed
as this nascent artist --
.
still nest-downy
and shirking the stage,
still riffing softly
from the brush.
I love this! What a fabulous word and what a gorgeous poem! You may be shirking the stage, but you’re hardly nest-downy. ❤️
This is actually so good that I wish I could restack it 🥲🎶
Woah subsong. Wonderfulness
Subsong! I love it. I think that quiet kind of creating is just as important.
Rebekah, your poem and posts always enlighten, expand and entertain me, and make me smile, cry and ponder. Subsong--what a gem! I searched and found wonderful descriptions, and even a piece on the difference between subsongs and whisper songs. Goodness. There is a whole prompt in this new word!
Of course, when I see your comments and it is followed by your incredibly powerful, unique and astounding poetry, I feel so grateful, so blessed, and so alive. I am still riffling softly in the brush.
I’m on a new journey into time
One should have taken years ago
Back to being with me at age eight
Seeing that child now fatherless
Alone in world without understanding
He once walked on road of magic and wonder
Now walking barefoot on dirt road
Littered with broken beer bottles
And smoldering cigarette butts
This is beautiful. I’m imagining you now walking that road beside your child self. ❤️
My bottomless sack
Of shits i willingly pledged
Was not bottomless.
There are so many times when your poems make me wish for a laugh response option rather than only the heart option! I 😂 and ❤️ this.
A poem about the growth edge…
In the midst of the fray
I picture myself
Sitting atop the peak
Of a mountain’s climb,
Staring with wonder
At the mighty imagination
Dreaming this beauty
Into existence,
Letting the world below
Wrestle and strive
As I forget its meaning.
"Letting the world below / Wrestle and strive / As I forget its meaning." Beautiful! This captures something I think about a lot, which is the need to be willing and able to zoom in close (feel every feeling, witness every suffering, do the nitty gritty work of love) and also to zoom way out, to feel yourself onto the top of that mountain, to hold all the suffering within a larger perspective.
Beautiful!
THis is splendid, Korie! IMlove the entire poem, and these lines "Sitting atop the peak/Of a mountain’s climb,/Staring with wonder/At the mighty imagination/Dreaming this beauty/Into existence,/Letting the world below/Wrestle and strive/As I forget its meaning."
This brought me right to the mountaintop, and it felt as if you had peeked into my heart and soul and found the words unable to be released and gave them freedom. Thank you!
At the edge of myself
I always find an other.
The ocean pays prostrations to the shore.
The clouds kiss the mountains' crests.
And at the edges of earths atmosphere
All manner of celestial bodies dance
All inside the body of the Universe
The Space holding us all.
All alive, in motion,
We learn of the myth of death
And the reality of dying and being reborn.
At the core of myself is a wellspring of miracles.
They ripple out to the edges
Forging connections along the way
Bringing richer understanding
Through transformation.
In the dead of winter
To some I may appear dormant,
But rejuvenation is a process
An unraveling before an integration
Unseen roots reaching deep
Sustaining my secret progress,
A secret shared among friends
That I've yet to meet.
I look forward to the pleasure of our acquaintance.
Allie, thank you for sharing this beautiful poem! “rejuvenation is a process / An unraveling before an integration” - I love this (and so many other lines) so much!
My favourite line was the same as yours Lisa! Beautiful
Allie, this is such a rich, moving and evocative poem. I like the lines Lisa and Nelly noted, and these few "The ocean pays prostrations to the shore./The clouds kiss the mountains' crests./And at the edges of earths atmosphere/All manner of celestial bodies dance/All inside the body of the Universe..."
These spoke to me immediately--brought me to the shore, the mountain and back to the inner universe of my own heart. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
I love the idea of haiku as penance and the way you redirect towards creativity.
I'm not sure I am growing. I feel like I'm in winter stasis. Hibernation. Everything slowed down, waiting for spring and warm. Energy stored in buds, inaccessible now. Or maybe there is some quiet, hidden growth, that I'm not even aware of. Today I read that they are starting to tap the sugar maples, which means the sap is rising. Roots quietly reaching down, life quietly flowing up. Maybe spring isn't quite so far away. The world is full of snow but I saw a robin perched on a line. It sang a couple of notes, dropped a poop, and then flew away. I've been reading that snow is a good fertilizer, delivering nitrogen to the soil.
Melanie, this is so beautiful! If wintering is essential for growth and health, then surely it can count as part of that growth and health, too.
Thank you, Lisa. I'm struggling to come to terms with wintering as growth. it feels so natural in the world out there and so hard to apply kindly to myself. I've been reading and pondering Katherine May's Wintering, but it really is a revolutionary idea. Hard to wrap my soul around.
We all have a lot of cultural messaging and socialization stacked against us here! My body did the hard work for me when it came to learning to winter (and learning to value that wintering). I got suddenly very sick in March 2020 (long covid), and for a long time, rest was pretty much the only thing I could do. And yet so much happened inside of me in that comparatively inert space. I feel like the seed nourished by that forced rest is still growing, still blooming, still surprising me.
A haiku for you
Stop it time and time again
Dopa-mining doom
Oh my gosh, best last line of a poem ever!!!!!
Dopa-mining doom!! So good.
It was the selling
of indulgences that pissed
off Martin Luther
Hahaha he will not love that I have pre-written my next two haikus then!
Ah yes! Keith, I am quoting you this Sunday!
Haha! Thanks, Larry ; )
I love this. It made me laugh to read that you're writing haikus as penance, and I love that you and Keith worked that out together.
I have been finding recently that I'm able to access more gentleness with myself and others. I think it's because instead of being on social media, I've mostly been slow-reading and annotating a couple of really joyful books, and connecting with a few friends.
Our house was hit with illness again this week and I've felt surprisingly capable even with the extra anxiety and exhaustion. I've been speaking really kindly to myself, and I feel really proud of it. (Oh and also I started therapy this week, and I think just knowing that I'll have that regular outlet is a huge weight off)
Reading an actual book feels so good and nourishing, doesn’t it? I wish I could make all of this Substack goodness somehow appear on bound pages instead!
I’m sorry to hear you all are dealing with sickness again. Kids are such adorable little germ factories - our schools are flooded with flu at the moment, so I’m trying to make peace with the near inevitable imminence of another round of illness in our household too. How cool to notice a shift in how you’re holding it! And yay for starting therapy and giving yourself a sacred outlet just for you! I hope it’s lovely and nourishing and everything you want it to be.
I often wish I could take Substack off my devices with me! It's one of the ways I still spend the most time on my phone.
Thank you! I'm feeling very hopeful - which, considering...*everything* feels really good.
A gentle virtual embrace and quiet applause for you, A.
Christ God, Almighty
Have too much "time" on my hands
Better wash it off
Haha yes! Be sure to use lots of soap!
Yes, thanks Lisa for another prompt in the wide world of prompts. What isn't a prompt? I posted it with a title. I don't care if haikus aren't supposed to have titles.
"What isn't a prompt?" Yes, yes, yes, exactly! And viewed that way, the world is a constant astonishment.
I am late to the ferry dock this week, and Lisa, your lovely poem and delightful prompt have been with me through the twists and bends. I love that Keith and you are holding each other acocuntable, and that writing Haikus are the "punishment" for doom scrolling. Can we apply that to the media, the politicos and the designers of this madness? If they had to stop and fashion a haiku befpore spewing more absurdity, perhaps we could be spared much of it?
At any rate, somewhow, wondering what the future holds, Max and the Wild thigns came to mind.
^
When Max was banished to his bedroom
he found the seam and shuffled to a magical place,
delicious and delightful wild beings that simply wanted
him to dance, romp, play and joy-sing for a time.
^
A world where wild and wonder coexist.
^
I sit in this silent room,
peek into the closet and the quiet corners
and whisper into the falling darkness
“it’s okay to come out, now.”
^
Paddling to a different shore,
praying that this harbor be a safe refuge,
hoping that the shadows and shapes awaiting me
are wild things, not demons.
^
Knowing that they are often one and the same.
Also, the ferry runs all day every day here, so there's no such thing as being late! 🧡
Hah! Good point! I’ll still try to be in time!
This is so whimsical and evoactive, Larry! I love the image of you as Max, whispering into the darkness, inviting the wild things out. And this notion "that they are often one and the same" - maybe all of our dichotomies are false - really speaks to me.
Thank you Lisa! Your are always a gracious and affirming reader!
Great post. And I love the idea of haikus for when you slip up, brilliant!
Thank you so much, Nelly!
Oh the gorgeousness of this poem, Lisa!
Off to read the prompt.
Thank you so much, friend!
I love the idea of writing a haiku every time I start to open the NYT app to check on the latest horror. I'm also struggling with finding that balance being being engaged and taking time to nurture joy.
Feel free to send me any and all haikus of penance if you go that route!
Will do.
Staying in a single moment is one of the most perfect delights