It took me a while today to write this out – and I loved every minute of it. I loved the voice reading this poem out too.
I was reminded of Kahlil Gibran’s “Said a blade of grass” poem several times over the last week. Both in my own behaviour, & others I observed through the looking glass we all live in now, the ubiquitous “video call”.
They say we’ve found & adapted to this “new normal”, like the behaviour is any different from the usual shitty pre-COVID19 ones.
It’s been a couple of poems inspired by a YouTube channel I stumbled upon over the weekend.
I spend a little time every day on drills, as they call them. Thousands of little ovals of various shapes & sizes. Rapid ovals & push-pulls. Using every muscle in the hand, arm, & occasionally the shoulder. Changing direction midway. On some days, inspiration strikes. Some random YouTube video or a picture someone has posted of their own creation, something beautiful. I know there’s no way I’ll be able to match the perfection captured in those videos/pictures, but I keep that as a guide while I scrawl on my scrapbook.
Sometimes, a random thought strikes midway through the drills, taking the mind’s eye away from the concentration required for the physical hand-eye coordination. The damage on the attempted creation is real. You may disagree, dear two regular readers, but I see everything that’s wrong on that page. Including how I didn’t even bother closing the blinds from the morning sun when I took the picture.
What’s the point of these drills? What’s the point of copying someone else? Why post a picture every day? Why bother vomiting a few words on this blog?
What’s the point of anything, really?
“We don’t find meaning in life, in our work. We give meaning to what we do.” Those words ring out quite a few times through the day for me, especially in these isolation days.
Like most people, I have a thousand ideas a day. I’ve been trying to write down
10 11 a day, and by all accounts, they are lousy. Crumpling the paper they’re written on & throwing it in the bin is a fine emotion (lol) – and a vote of confidence in my own ability that I can come up with 10 or 11 more tomorrow.
Quote found in Austin Kleon’s wonderful book “Steal like an artist“.
Oh, the comfort — the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person — having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away. -Dinah Maria Mulock Craik, poet and novelist (20 Apr 1826-1887)
Those words took my breath away. They reminded me of all the people who have come into my life & listen to me – just listen, without judgement, let me vent it all out. Holding my confidence, being kind. My gratitude remains, even if I haven’t remained in touch.
If only I could remember to be that person more often.