On Showing Up

After winning a prize or publishing a poem, it is very easy to identify as a poet/writer and (if you're anything like me) ride it until the wheels fall off without writing another word for two years. Sure, I've dipped my toes into the poetry pool here and there - I've attended readings, written a sporadic poem, found myself pleased in the moment with a metaphor or simile that has slipped it's way into everyday speech. But have I prioritized writing? Put a giant elephant in the middle of my living room, square in front of the TV and painted poetry across it's side in giant neon letters?  

Of course, we all know it's not just a matter of choosing one activity over another; life does get in the way. Before I moved, I was working two jobs (three, if you count dog walking) with one day off a week. One blessed day free of obligations. And do you know what I did with that day? Laundry. Grocery shopping. Reading a book. Planning my wedding. I get it, life gets extraordinarily crowded with to-do lists. 

And yet, there was always this nagging feeling that I was procrastinating and ignoring something massively important - making time to write. If you want a clean house, you make time to pick it up. Want internet access? You take fifteen minutes to pay that effing Comcast bill. If you want to quit being a lapsed poet then you need to READ and WRITE. In fact, put off paying your bills or cleaning house and write. Then, when you're done with that, put on a podcast and listen to a poetry reading while you do the dishes.

Don't believe the crap about the lonely poet in the lonely tower - that's just an excuse. Anyone can jot down a word or a thought to keep the poetry conversation going within yourself. Make it easy to do, or alternatively, incredibly difficult to choose NOT to do it. 

Yesterday, I was riding the train looking at the snow swish by the windows and I thought to myself "Gawd, we look like we're going WARP speed in here! We could be skipping whole universes!" Not a serious thought, particularly when the train is going about ten miles in hour in stop-and-go traffic, but I wrote it down on my phone and suddenly, I kept writing and out popped a short little poem. Nothing glamorous but it's there.

What I'm trying to say is that poetry, at it's heart, is about taking the time to slow down; to notice and record, to take joy or grief and write it's name in a hundred thousand different ways. Do yourself a favor and make it impossible not to show up.