Hello Hedge School,
Language is a beautiful technology.
A bridge between inner experiences. Words, utterances that vibrate in our ears reach from my world to yours. A meeting place for meaning and collective understanding. Personally, I see the hand selection of words as bouquets of flowers in tribute to the beauty we see in the world.
But words can defeat us.
Can be trapdoors. Shackles that limit the unlimited that flows in abundance from within.
Either way, language is transformative.
A power for good or evil.
I've loved reading and writing for as long as I can remember. Books took me to faraway lands. Paper and pencils brought those lands into the world as a travel destination for others.
Writing was a freedom to dance with language.
I could say that my life changed when I found poetry but that would be a lie. See poetry found me. Sitting on a mountain spot during a vision quest, poetry found me amongst the dirt and stillness. Amongst the fear of darkness and beauty of moments. When I came down from the mountain, words starting singing through me. Whenever I stilled myself, a deluge of words channelled through my fingers. The more I stilled, the clearer the signal.
Poetry became the canvas language danced on.
Since then, I have written hundreds of poems, published a book of poems and have another book on its way. I came out as a poet, claiming the title initially with trepidation. Some friends laughed at the direction change. Others patted me on the back for the courage to sing.
And so I sit in service to language, with poetry as my instrument.
And I look to use those words to stop people in their tracks.
I don't get poetry.
This is a standard line when it comes to poetry. In fact, it's one of the reasons I love poetry so much. Dissonance is woven in, demanding you stop and listen. Poetry is not meant to be trapped.
To be known.
To be gathered for stockpile.
It is meant to stop us in our tracks.
Like a great story, you must find your place in the poem. Let the words wash over you. For one does not read poetry.
One feels poetry.
Heart not mind.
Amongst all the language available, these bouquets have been carefully hand picked to stop you in your tracks.
To wake you from the momentum of lost moments.
The language is not meant to be known. It has been hand selected to be felt deeply. Like birdsong, we must let it have its way with us.
Poetry is trimtab.
Buckminster Fuller is a huge hero of mine. Language was incredibly important to him. And like a true inventor, he contributed words and inventions that changed the world forever. One of those inventions was called a "trimtab."
The trimtab was developed to help large battleships turn more efficiently. A small strip of metal attached to the edges of the rudder doesn't feel like it should work at helping such a large vessel turn. But this mini rudder generates a low pressure, which helps the larger rudder turn around.
Poetry is trimtab.
Language is the ship.
Poetry applies small pressure. A low pressure pause in your step. As the words enter your psyche, you try to understand them. Sometimes you do. Other times you have no clue. But the words build a low pressure that causes you to change path.
To transition to a new direction.
To a new world
We can get lost in the world of language. Trapped in a world of concepts and typecasting.
Poetry as trimtab, with little pressure applied, helps change our course. It awakens us from sleepwalking by reverence and heart filled listening.
Poetry, from the root world "poiein", which means compose or make, is a composition we sing to the world that through low pressure leads us back to the beauty in the world.
And I'm so grateful it has.
So find your way back to the language of the heart. Let it wash over you. Let it apply the low pressure to enable a course correction to awareness.
You won’t be sorry you did.
Till next week,
Steve
Credits
Music: Unfolding Mirrors by Shane Ivers - https://www.silvermansound.com
Photo - Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash
New worlds: Poetry as trimtab