https://www.pexels.com/@skylake/
“We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric,
but out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.”
Shame and perfectionism are wildly limiting. They swirl and bake into a dense, distasteful judgement. One that sticks to your teeth, fingertips, doesn’t swallow or wash down easily. It stays with you. Judgement of yourself to a standard that is impossible to meet leaves you with only one way to feel about anything that anyone else puts out into the world- comparison and then disdain.
I used to want to be a published poet. A person who made things, but held them close in my hands. Who magically heard “the establishment” peer over my shoulder to say, “Oh, yes, well done!” I wanted to see my poems in print but only by being discovered. My own enjoyment of writing or of what I wrote was less than meaningless in the shadow of my own imagination’s surety of my insufficiency. So, I wrote my heart out and out and out… and never did a thing with it. Perfectionism wouldn’t let me. Obviously nothing was ever good enough to submit to anyone. Even showing interest in being published would be asking for attention, a big no-no if your exacting standards are based in shame. Who do you think you are? Assuming anyone wants to see/hear/read what you make?
I wrote lines and lines of poetry to show to no one.
https://www.pexels.com/@pavel-danilyuk/
Judgement and comparison also really curtail imagination and curiosity. Any type of comparison does, right? While I wrote poetry, I didn’t read it. I couldn’t enjoy reading other people’s words so I missed out on all the new ideas and inspiration to be had. It felt like an exercise in self-punishment. Instead of enjoying other’s work, I’d be needled with thoughts of how I might do – no, be – better than what I was reading coupled with crushing sureness that I was not.
So much comparison. Sigh.
It is ridiculous to say I was jealous of Nayyirah Waheed or John Donne. I was though. So insecure in myself that I couldn’t even be inspired by acclaimed, successful artists with whom I had no business playing mental one-upmanship. I couldn’t even enjoy these poets whom I loved. I knew only how to be in competition.
I’m aware now that I’ve been holding myself hostage for years. Putting other’s imagined opinions before my own, I was keeping a grudge against anyone who moved forward in their arts without the anchor of doubt that I carried. It was so… pointless.
Who gets mad at a stranger for winning a contest they themselves did not enter?! Who gets jealous of Serena Williams for winning tournaments in a sport they don’t play? What I was doing to myself was that ridiculous. And it was a learned mindset. Thankfully, one can learn other mindsets.
“That is what jealousy looked like on me… She knew who she was and fully inhabited herself in a way that should have inspired me (it does now), but I hated myself so much that being close to her confidence just turned me sour.”
When I read the quote above in Neko Case’s memoir, The Harder I Fight The More I Love You, I felt a PING! of recognition. A new way to put words to an almost equally new concept for me. I’ve been letting go of that old comparison mindset and it has been, in a word, delicious. This blog is a thing born of that release. And before this writing came the freedom to joyfully gorge on reading of all kinds, to roll around, luxuriate in the way people have put words together. How they have painted ideas, and published them for us to enjoy—for me to enjoy. And I do.
Since I’ve stopped worrying so much about whether I’m good enough for anyone but myself (in all aspects of life), I don’t feel the urge to compare. I don’t feel jealous of artists’ bravery to put their creations out to the world. I feel incredibly grateful to them for doing so. I feel myself more a part of the world for receiving it.
These ideas may seem counter to the fact that I review books on this blog as well. I do literally give star “scores” to other people’s art. Maybe I won’t always do that. Here is why it feels fundamentally different to me, though. When I review books and rate them, it is based on the experience I had with the work. My partner has noted before that I’ve given 4.5 stars to books that I think are absolute masterpieces. A book later, I’ve given a 5 to a clearly less accomplished work because it moved me so! These ratings reflect the richness of my experience with a book. In that sense, reviewing them does not feel counter to letting go of comparison at all. It is born of joy, freedom, and a desire to share what is making me happy. Not comparison; appreciation.
That said, I have posted one review that was more negative. Again, this was based on my experience with it. I didn’t enjoy writing negatively and have been reviewing books I’m happy to talk about happily since then. I’m figuring things out just like everyone else… what a comforting thing to let ourselves do.
“Loving someone else’s art can give you a ride at least halfway to where you are trying to go. Even if you don’t know where that is yet.”
In the spirit of being inspired. Of letting our purpose be to marvel rather than to master, below is a poet I love and a piece of hers that I’ve read every day for a week. I’m soaking in it like a sudsy bath.
If you want to write things, I hope you do. If you want to put them somewhere to be seen, I hope you do that, too. I’ll read them!
There is no scarcity of beauty. There is no scarcity of creativity. There need be no competition in artistic expression. I know that there are a lot of systems we must interact with that say otherwise, but we don’t have to believe them. If it is our own mind pushing the lie, we can gently open our own hands and share what we made with the world. We can see that it is safe to share art. Let abundance teach us that our opened hands are still full.
-HR
https://www.pexels.com/@luisdalvan/
The Beautiful Pauses
Angels, beautiful pauses in the whirlwind,
Be with us through the seasons of unease;
Within the clamorous traffic of the mind,
Through all these clouded and tumultuous days,
Remind us of your great unclouded ways.
It is the wind of time, crude repetition,
That whirls us round and blurs our anxious vision,
But centered in its beam, your own ‘nunc stans‘
Still pivots and sets free the sacred dance.
And suddenly we are there: the light turns red,
The cars are stopped in Heaven, motors idle,
While all around green amplitude is spread,
Those grassy slopes of dream—and whirling will
Rests on deeper pulse, and we are still.
Only a golf course, but the sudden change
From light to light opens a further range;
Surprised by angels, we free for once
To move and rest within the sacred dance.
Or suddenly we are there: a hotel room,
The rumor of a city-hive below,
And the world falls away before this bloom,
This pause, high up, affecting us like snow.
Time’s tick is gone; softly we come and go,
Barefoot on carpet, all joyfully suspended,
And there, before the open morning’s ended,
The beautiful pause, the sudden lucky chance
opens the way into the sacred dance.
I write this in October on a windless morning.
The leaves float down on air as clear as flame,
Their course a spiral, turning and returning;
They dance the slow pavane that give its name
To a whole season, never quite the same.
Angels, who can surprise us with a lucky chance,
Be with us in this year; give us to dance
Time’s tick away, and in our whirling flight
Poetry center the long fall through light.
Purchase links: (Not affiliated. I’m just a shopper.)
Everyman’s Poetry – W. B. Yeats edited by John Kelly
The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats book by W.B. Yeats
This is not the collection I have. I am unable to find my old copy for sale. This is edited by a different person but seems similar in that it spans his writing career and gives context to his work.
Nayyirah Waheed – Incredible poet and more. Her book Salt. is beautiful.
salt. book by Nayyirah Waheed
John Donne – Poet. I met him through a collection of his love poems. Similar book linked below.
The Love Poems of John Donne a book by John Donne – Bookshop.org US
Neko Case – The Harder I Fight The More I Love You
The Harder I Fight the More I Love You a book by Neko Case – Bookshop.org US
May Sarton – A Private Mythology
A Private Mythology a book by May Sarton – Bookshop.org US
Hard Return 