What touches me in reading your words is that you share from the place of experience, i.e., that experience was evoked. My hope in writing this series on poetry and human becoming has been to evoke these modes of being through the written word. In many ways, it has been the most challenging writing exercise I have undertaken. And I'll offer here to you that I've been experimenting with you all (!) as I work with some stylistic components of my manuscript regarding this topic. In this week's comment and last week, you have shown me, Kimberly, to keep experimenting with this. My gratitude is utter. Truly. Thank you, dear Friend.
...also, a side note about Cura... I had a mole on my face that seemed a bit suspicious so I made an appointment with a dermatologist. Of course, they are months out, so in the meantime, thought Why not use CureL(o)ve on it? I'm not trying to sound like an advertisement over here, but a month later, it's nearly gone. What's left is just a bit of discoloration. I'll keep my appointment with the doc but I suspect he'll laugh at me when I show him what I was concerned about. I have no doubts in my mind that your gorgeous serum reminded my little skin cells their innate harmony and resolved the situation themselves. ;)
. . . and then, there's this from you! THANK YOU for sharing this goodness. I have all fingers crossed that you will get the eye-roll and laugh from your dermatologist and that all will be well. Synergistic magic!
Before any other words are tapped onto screen, I must tell you that here, where you write
“There, where there is no form, the promise of something that before was not there.
Everywhere we turn, a promise a yearning a gap we cannot close.
Every turn an act of poetry.
Every act of poetry trans/versing the isness of is.
Which can mean nothing unless you read these words from the place in you from which a poem comes to be. Leaving,”
With this you fill a gap, you bridge the ‘isness’ of place with self by sending us this audio with consciousness and feeling - I thank you deeply… for me that link/gap was missing. Now it is whole and closed.
I realise this was not your intended meaning, (here again I lean into your words…) but a link that I felt and will hold for each furthering letter.
There is no forgiveness necessary in your belief Renée, a poem will ‘be’ and just that, it is a creation of perhaps one or a trillion visions/thoughts/feelings it does not need to be translated or even fully understood it is simply our creation or recreation of a moment. It belongs to that moment only…
“The beginning is ever-beginning. Out of a great Silence, a yearning, ever mute, signaling the endless unfolding of being.
It is heartening to read from you that the audio filled the gap . . . and so, the 'isness' feels whole. Your words come as an affirmation that "a word heard" is a living tissue between us. So very much carries across the soundwaves of our voice shared and belonging "to that moment" and "endlessly unfolding" between us. You also write this:
"I realise this was not your intended meaning, (here again I lean into your words…) but a link that I felt and will hold for each furthering letter."
What I gather here is that hearing my voice in this letter will carry for you through many more. If I am following you, then not only is a word heard living tissue that spans space and time. It is also the sharing of our own embodied self, and now that, too, is shared.
I appreciate your kind 'letting me off the hook'. We never know, do we, what the writing process will unfold.
Thank you for your heartfelt reflections, as always, Susie.
Yes, a desire to say what we mean is what it's like to be. Thank you for that Renee, it's so accurate.That we attempt to describe the indescribable, that we keep showing up and accidentally 'trying' to find the space where the word will be birthed, all the while knowing that creation cannot be found it must be allowed.
Renée, this was one of those posts that I save because I don’t have time at the moment to reply but want to. Now, 3 weeks later, I can... Something about this post touches me. Maybe it was the conversation about the biscuits (although my mother never made biscuits unless they were from a Pillsbury can), or the simplicity of the poetry. I know nothing about poetry or how to interpret it. “A poem should not mean / but be” sets that free. A poem just IS, and maybe that’s all that is necessary.
Permit me to say how touched I am that you would circle back to a post three weeks later. Thank you.
It seems to me you gathered up every ounce of essence in MacLeish's poem by coming to: "A poem just IS, and maybe that's all that is necessary."
I hoped to show in bringing to life those moments of biscuit-making the gaps in what was or could be spoken. Every question I asked was an errand she put me on. She was not going to answer my questions about how to make biscuits by telling me. The only way to learn was to watch her hands and then, in time, to learn to feel the dough with my own.
"A poem just IS, and maybe that's all that is necessary" sort of thing. . .
I don't believe my mother was that intentional about it. I believe she was seriously at a loss for words about how to respond to my questions, so much so that if I pressed her, she would say, "I don't know, Renée" with a heavy sigh. Bless my mother my ceaseless wonderment!
Your words leave me with a three-dimensional image of the infinity symbol . . . ever-expanding, the center 'point' the creative impulse in the universe and all life, this center point extending in all directions. This center point, the ever beginning.
. . . the heart of a dandelion. 😉
I'm so glad the audio softened the electronic tenor. Thank you for sharing this.
Again, to say: so glad to have your voice here, Jacob. Thank you.
Renee I loved this..."There, where there is no form, the promise of something that before was not there. Everywhere we turn, a promise a yearning a gap we cannot close. Every turn an act of poetry. Every act of poetry trans/versing the isness of is."
Poetry draws me in like a moth to the flame, the fish to the hook. I lose myself in it, going round and round in that "cul-de-sac" of meaning that defies holding. For it slips through my fingers, like the wind rustling the branches, yet leaves me touched without explanation.
I was recently introduced to Shuzo Takiguchi, a surrealist poet. Amazing wordsmith/poet of placing words together in unexpected ways. It literally stops my mind! Inviting me into an experience that defies definition.
Your words are breathtaking. Inasmuch as they leave me wordless, I know I have been touched by poetry through you. And thank you for introducing me to Shuzo Takiguchi. I have just wandered down a rabbit hole of the unexpected. And more, you have pointed me in a new direction. The philosopher, Jean Gebser, whose work serves as the framework for a manuscript I'm working on, wrote quite a bit about Picasso. From what I can tell at first glance, Takiguchi seems to offer the written word form of a Picasso painting. Immense thanks to you!
This is incredible. And I SO loved listening to your voice speak the words. In part, I'm reminded about a conversation we had where we talked about words as the paints of the poet/writer. Using these to bring into form the essence of the image from our marrow. Words can be particularly slippery paints and also, maybe paradoxically, a little too concrete at times. When we want to express infinity using finite symbols we find ourselves in that place of tension. And then I also wanted to mention that I've been thinking a lot about meaning lately (as I work on next month's pack about meaning). I went back to Viktor Frankl and was reminded of his belief that the search for meaning is our core motivation and that it's not something we create, but discover in each moment. It unfolds before us and (to use Donna's wisdom) we allow it to be. And then tension pulls us to discover the meaning of the next moment. Thank you for all of this! ♥️
Thank you, dear Friend, as always. I love how our conversations wind their way onto and off the page.
This quote might be the next bathroom stickie:
"When we want to express infinity using finite symbols we find ourselves in that place of tension"
The rational mind (Mental structure) cannot solve this tension!
Then your reflection on allowing for (calling from Donna's wisdom) the discovery of meaning rather than believing we create meaning. I am looking forward to your pack. And now, of course, I'm reflecting on meaning in the context of dreaming, per our conversation. 🙏
Ecstatic. That’s the word or rather, experience, that kept arising as I read this. Followed by grateful, fecund silence. 🙏
Kimberly,
What touches me in reading your words is that you share from the place of experience, i.e., that experience was evoked. My hope in writing this series on poetry and human becoming has been to evoke these modes of being through the written word. In many ways, it has been the most challenging writing exercise I have undertaken. And I'll offer here to you that I've been experimenting with you all (!) as I work with some stylistic components of my manuscript regarding this topic. In this week's comment and last week, you have shown me, Kimberly, to keep experimenting with this. My gratitude is utter. Truly. Thank you, dear Friend.
With love,
Renée
...also, a side note about Cura... I had a mole on my face that seemed a bit suspicious so I made an appointment with a dermatologist. Of course, they are months out, so in the meantime, thought Why not use CureL(o)ve on it? I'm not trying to sound like an advertisement over here, but a month later, it's nearly gone. What's left is just a bit of discoloration. I'll keep my appointment with the doc but I suspect he'll laugh at me when I show him what I was concerned about. I have no doubts in my mind that your gorgeous serum reminded my little skin cells their innate harmony and resolved the situation themselves. ;)
. . . and then, there's this from you! THANK YOU for sharing this goodness. I have all fingers crossed that you will get the eye-roll and laugh from your dermatologist and that all will be well. Synergistic magic!
Dearest Renée, in reply to both letters;
Before any other words are tapped onto screen, I must tell you that here, where you write
“There, where there is no form, the promise of something that before was not there.
Everywhere we turn, a promise a yearning a gap we cannot close.
Every turn an act of poetry.
Every act of poetry trans/versing the isness of is.
Which can mean nothing unless you read these words from the place in you from which a poem comes to be. Leaving,”
With this you fill a gap, you bridge the ‘isness’ of place with self by sending us this audio with consciousness and feeling - I thank you deeply… for me that link/gap was missing. Now it is whole and closed.
I realise this was not your intended meaning, (here again I lean into your words…) but a link that I felt and will hold for each furthering letter.
There is no forgiveness necessary in your belief Renée, a poem will ‘be’ and just that, it is a creation of perhaps one or a trillion visions/thoughts/feelings it does not need to be translated or even fully understood it is simply our creation or recreation of a moment. It belongs to that moment only…
“The beginning is ever-beginning. Out of a great Silence, a yearning, ever mute, signaling the endless unfolding of being.
A poem should not mean
But be.”
But endlessly unfolding! Absolutely yes! X
Dear Susie,
It is heartening to read from you that the audio filled the gap . . . and so, the 'isness' feels whole. Your words come as an affirmation that "a word heard" is a living tissue between us. So very much carries across the soundwaves of our voice shared and belonging "to that moment" and "endlessly unfolding" between us. You also write this:
"I realise this was not your intended meaning, (here again I lean into your words…) but a link that I felt and will hold for each furthering letter."
What I gather here is that hearing my voice in this letter will carry for you through many more. If I am following you, then not only is a word heard living tissue that spans space and time. It is also the sharing of our own embodied self, and now that, too, is shared.
I appreciate your kind 'letting me off the hook'. We never know, do we, what the writing process will unfold.
Thank you for your heartfelt reflections, as always, Susie.
With love,
Renée
Yes, a desire to say what we mean is what it's like to be. Thank you for that Renee, it's so accurate.That we attempt to describe the indescribable, that we keep showing up and accidentally 'trying' to find the space where the word will be birthed, all the while knowing that creation cannot be found it must be allowed.
Donna,
. . . allowed. Yes. 🙏❤️
Thank you, dear Friend.
With love,
Renée
Renée, this was one of those posts that I save because I don’t have time at the moment to reply but want to. Now, 3 weeks later, I can... Something about this post touches me. Maybe it was the conversation about the biscuits (although my mother never made biscuits unless they were from a Pillsbury can), or the simplicity of the poetry. I know nothing about poetry or how to interpret it. “A poem should not mean / but be” sets that free. A poem just IS, and maybe that’s all that is necessary.
Louise,
Permit me to say how touched I am that you would circle back to a post three weeks later. Thank you.
It seems to me you gathered up every ounce of essence in MacLeish's poem by coming to: "A poem just IS, and maybe that's all that is necessary."
I hoped to show in bringing to life those moments of biscuit-making the gaps in what was or could be spoken. Every question I asked was an errand she put me on. She was not going to answer my questions about how to make biscuits by telling me. The only way to learn was to watch her hands and then, in time, to learn to feel the dough with my own.
"A poem just IS, and maybe that's all that is necessary" sort of thing. . .
I don't believe my mother was that intentional about it. I believe she was seriously at a loss for words about how to respond to my questions, so much so that if I pressed her, she would say, "I don't know, Renée" with a heavy sigh. Bless my mother my ceaseless wonderment!
Mmmm. Poetry as an act of Becoming. And Becoming the living act of Poetry.
Only in that 'ever beginning' of that 'every prose' - moment by beheld moment.
As not
"to mean, but be"
Ps. Wonderful to put a voice to the words. A graceful blessing in this electronically focused system.
Jacob,
Your words leave me with a three-dimensional image of the infinity symbol . . . ever-expanding, the center 'point' the creative impulse in the universe and all life, this center point extending in all directions. This center point, the ever beginning.
. . . the heart of a dandelion. 😉
I'm so glad the audio softened the electronic tenor. Thank you for sharing this.
Again, to say: so glad to have your voice here, Jacob. Thank you.
With love,
Renée
Renee I loved this..."There, where there is no form, the promise of something that before was not there. Everywhere we turn, a promise a yearning a gap we cannot close. Every turn an act of poetry. Every act of poetry trans/versing the isness of is."
Poetry draws me in like a moth to the flame, the fish to the hook. I lose myself in it, going round and round in that "cul-de-sac" of meaning that defies holding. For it slips through my fingers, like the wind rustling the branches, yet leaves me touched without explanation.
I was recently introduced to Shuzo Takiguchi, a surrealist poet. Amazing wordsmith/poet of placing words together in unexpected ways. It literally stops my mind! Inviting me into an experience that defies definition.
Julie,
Your words are breathtaking. Inasmuch as they leave me wordless, I know I have been touched by poetry through you. And thank you for introducing me to Shuzo Takiguchi. I have just wandered down a rabbit hole of the unexpected. And more, you have pointed me in a new direction. The philosopher, Jean Gebser, whose work serves as the framework for a manuscript I'm working on, wrote quite a bit about Picasso. From what I can tell at first glance, Takiguchi seems to offer the written word form of a Picasso painting. Immense thanks to you!
With love,
Renée
Renée, how wonderful! His poetry has opened new doors for me too!
This is incredible. And I SO loved listening to your voice speak the words. In part, I'm reminded about a conversation we had where we talked about words as the paints of the poet/writer. Using these to bring into form the essence of the image from our marrow. Words can be particularly slippery paints and also, maybe paradoxically, a little too concrete at times. When we want to express infinity using finite symbols we find ourselves in that place of tension. And then I also wanted to mention that I've been thinking a lot about meaning lately (as I work on next month's pack about meaning). I went back to Viktor Frankl and was reminded of his belief that the search for meaning is our core motivation and that it's not something we create, but discover in each moment. It unfolds before us and (to use Donna's wisdom) we allow it to be. And then tension pulls us to discover the meaning of the next moment. Thank you for all of this! ♥️
Jenna,
Thank you, dear Friend, as always. I love how our conversations wind their way onto and off the page.
This quote might be the next bathroom stickie:
"When we want to express infinity using finite symbols we find ourselves in that place of tension"
The rational mind (Mental structure) cannot solve this tension!
Then your reflection on allowing for (calling from Donna's wisdom) the discovery of meaning rather than believing we create meaning. I am looking forward to your pack. And now, of course, I'm reflecting on meaning in the context of dreaming, per our conversation. 🙏
With love,
Renée