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shadowkatI keep landing on this poem every time I enter DW today:
It's by Mary Oliver, who seems to be the poet of the moment.
"I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.
So why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
And to write music or poems about.
Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.
You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.
The line that grates is "none of which, I think, I ever wasted" - there's this view that sitting still is wasting life. Or watching a television show. Or sleeping. Or staring into space. Or spending weekends playing on social media, or talking on the phone.
But what do we know? And she doesn't really say that? But I'm not sure of the poem.
I have a love/hate relationship with poetry and always have. I wrote a lot of it in high-school and college, and struggled, because my immediate family was not fond of poetry and scoffed at it. I did it any way. I read it in front of people at coffee houses. At one point, my senior year of college, I read it in front of an audience of over 700 people. Just me. On stage. By myself. With a spotlight on me. Reading my poetry. My entire body trembling as I did so. My hands shaking along with the paper. I had people tease and make fun of that.
My brother saw me read - and his reaction was that he felt I was exposing too much of myself to the wrong people. Why wear your heart on your sleeve? Why expose yourself quite that much?
And indeed, one of the audience members, a wet-behind-the ears lad of seventeen, tactlessly asked to see the poem and stated, somewhat bewildered, the poem is horrible - yet your performance of it made it great.
The problem with most poetry is it is intended to be read or sung or performed, it's like lines to a play - or a Shakespearean sonnet - it doesn't quite work merely read or played with in the head, you need to hear it too, taste it, touch it, interact with it. Hear the rhythm and the rhyme, and the metaphor.
And like all art, the beauty of it is in the eye of the beholder as is the artistry. It cannot be judged objectively, not really. And those who deign to do so, the more fools they...full of themselves and their erstwhile snobbery and superiority of prose and rhyme, when in truth they are nothing but squirrels nibbling at the feet of a giraff that towers high above them neck stretched to the sky. Judge not for thy shall be held in judgement, and found wanting or so it says in texts far older than ours.
For myself, all poetry is worth something to someone. None are a waste. To either those throwing them up on the page or those taking the time to read and parcel out their truths. I find it disingenuous to critique art or poetry, particularly by those who create it.
***
I watched a film tonight, part I, The Bread Factory, which I rented for $3.95 on Apple TV. I'm not quite certain what to make of it. It's slow. But it is supposed to be. It is what I'd call hyper-realism. About a culture clash in a small town in Upstate New York. One reviewer on IMBD called it a bad film, while the New Yorker Reviewer applauded it. Again, art, remains in the eye of the beholder. We see it through our own lens.
My brother is annoyingly snobbish about film and art. He saw Polite Society with his wife and daughter, and he and his wife tore it apart, while their daughter sank back and stayed quiet for the most part, telling me privately that she really enjoyed it but her parents disliked it, and not saying anything else. At one point, I watched her mother make fun of television shows that her daughter loved, denigrating them. And her daughter at one point deliberately wore an outfit that she knew would annoy her image conscious parents. She has since moved out West, traveling about the Southwest, and Utah with her boyfriend and playing park ranger, far from the snobby East Coast and the Ivy League schools, instead going to the University of Montana.
I couldn't be prouder.
Perhaps that's the waste of a life? Caring too much about how others perceive us? Define us? Or view us? Caring too much about how we market ourselves and our wares? Caring too much about the accolades?
I don't know. Yellowface - the satire I'm reading about the publishing industry - struck me last night - when it detailed the stupidity of the book awards. How they all want them, but how they are all meaningless and all the authors know they are meaningless - since it is just a select few who even select the winners, and little more than a popularity contest.
But still wanted all the same.
**
I'm trying to turn off the critical mind. That rips and tears. And stomps on creative impulses. That questions what I've wrought. Saying it's not good enough. Seeing the flaws and cracks within.
Does my drawing have to look like the photo I was using as a guide? No. No one will know what I used but me, anyhow.
I've realized that I struggle with compliments. Mother says that I almost get defensive about them. Which is an odd thing to say? I'd say I'm more surprised by them? And find myself doing a double-take. Wait? What? What did you say? Could you say that again please, so I can take it in and actually believe it is real and not imagined? Our world, I think, is too ready with the critique, and not always that ready with the compliment?
We like to tear folks down to build ourselves up, as opposed to build them up and build up ourselves in equal standing?
We should walk hand in hand, I think? And not in competition. I've always hated competition. Yet, it appears to be as ingrained in me as everyone.
It's by Mary Oliver, who seems to be the poet of the moment.
"I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.
So why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
And to write music or poems about.
Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.
You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be as urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.
The line that grates is "none of which, I think, I ever wasted" - there's this view that sitting still is wasting life. Or watching a television show. Or sleeping. Or staring into space. Or spending weekends playing on social media, or talking on the phone.
But what do we know? And she doesn't really say that? But I'm not sure of the poem.
I have a love/hate relationship with poetry and always have. I wrote a lot of it in high-school and college, and struggled, because my immediate family was not fond of poetry and scoffed at it. I did it any way. I read it in front of people at coffee houses. At one point, my senior year of college, I read it in front of an audience of over 700 people. Just me. On stage. By myself. With a spotlight on me. Reading my poetry. My entire body trembling as I did so. My hands shaking along with the paper. I had people tease and make fun of that.
My brother saw me read - and his reaction was that he felt I was exposing too much of myself to the wrong people. Why wear your heart on your sleeve? Why expose yourself quite that much?
And indeed, one of the audience members, a wet-behind-the ears lad of seventeen, tactlessly asked to see the poem and stated, somewhat bewildered, the poem is horrible - yet your performance of it made it great.
The problem with most poetry is it is intended to be read or sung or performed, it's like lines to a play - or a Shakespearean sonnet - it doesn't quite work merely read or played with in the head, you need to hear it too, taste it, touch it, interact with it. Hear the rhythm and the rhyme, and the metaphor.
And like all art, the beauty of it is in the eye of the beholder as is the artistry. It cannot be judged objectively, not really. And those who deign to do so, the more fools they...full of themselves and their erstwhile snobbery and superiority of prose and rhyme, when in truth they are nothing but squirrels nibbling at the feet of a giraff that towers high above them neck stretched to the sky. Judge not for thy shall be held in judgement, and found wanting or so it says in texts far older than ours.
For myself, all poetry is worth something to someone. None are a waste. To either those throwing them up on the page or those taking the time to read and parcel out their truths. I find it disingenuous to critique art or poetry, particularly by those who create it.
***
I watched a film tonight, part I, The Bread Factory, which I rented for $3.95 on Apple TV. I'm not quite certain what to make of it. It's slow. But it is supposed to be. It is what I'd call hyper-realism. About a culture clash in a small town in Upstate New York. One reviewer on IMBD called it a bad film, while the New Yorker Reviewer applauded it. Again, art, remains in the eye of the beholder. We see it through our own lens.
My brother is annoyingly snobbish about film and art. He saw Polite Society with his wife and daughter, and he and his wife tore it apart, while their daughter sank back and stayed quiet for the most part, telling me privately that she really enjoyed it but her parents disliked it, and not saying anything else. At one point, I watched her mother make fun of television shows that her daughter loved, denigrating them. And her daughter at one point deliberately wore an outfit that she knew would annoy her image conscious parents. She has since moved out West, traveling about the Southwest, and Utah with her boyfriend and playing park ranger, far from the snobby East Coast and the Ivy League schools, instead going to the University of Montana.
I couldn't be prouder.
Perhaps that's the waste of a life? Caring too much about how others perceive us? Define us? Or view us? Caring too much about how we market ourselves and our wares? Caring too much about the accolades?
I don't know. Yellowface - the satire I'm reading about the publishing industry - struck me last night - when it detailed the stupidity of the book awards. How they all want them, but how they are all meaningless and all the authors know they are meaningless - since it is just a select few who even select the winners, and little more than a popularity contest.
But still wanted all the same.
**
I'm trying to turn off the critical mind. That rips and tears. And stomps on creative impulses. That questions what I've wrought. Saying it's not good enough. Seeing the flaws and cracks within.
Does my drawing have to look like the photo I was using as a guide? No. No one will know what I used but me, anyhow.
I've realized that I struggle with compliments. Mother says that I almost get defensive about them. Which is an odd thing to say? I'd say I'm more surprised by them? And find myself doing a double-take. Wait? What? What did you say? Could you say that again please, so I can take it in and actually believe it is real and not imagined? Our world, I think, is too ready with the critique, and not always that ready with the compliment?
We like to tear folks down to build ourselves up, as opposed to build them up and build up ourselves in equal standing?
We should walk hand in hand, I think? And not in competition. I've always hated competition. Yet, it appears to be as ingrained in me as everyone.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-01 09:14 am (UTC)though maybe that's about attentiveness rather than blankness.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-01 09:32 am (UTC)Thoughts
Date: 2024-04-01 09:36 am (UTC)Oh, I intended it with dogged determination.
... it seemed like a good idea at the time.
>>So why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.<<
Because I don't really want to belong to an asshole.
I might be stuck with it for the time being, but that doesn't mean I have to agree with it or emulate it or let it possess me. I can try to minimize my contact with the utter fuckwits who think that torching the environment and atmosphere is somehow a good idea. I can spend as much time as possible in other worlds that suck less, to the extent I can reach them from here. I can carry back better ideas and write them down for other folks to use. I can choose to spend time in nature rather than society. At least if a bird craps on me, it's genuinely not personal.
>> The line that grates is "none of which, I think, I ever wasted" - there's this view that sitting still is wasting life. Or watching a television show. Or sleeping. Or staring into space. Or spending weekends playing on social media, or talking on the phone.<<
One's life is one's own to spend as one chooses. Waste is in the eye of the beholder. If you enjoyed the time you spent, you learned something from it, and or you made something with it, then it wasn't wasted -- even if other people disagree.
Sleeping and relaxing aren't wasteful, they are survival needs. I'd say anything necessary for life is time well spent.
>> I have a love/hate relationship with poetry and always have. <<
Yeah, that can happen. It sucks.
>> I wrote a lot of it in high-school and college, and struggled, because my immediate family was not fond of poetry and scoffed at it.<<
People are assholes.
With poetry, you've got the subjective -- did it do what you meant? -- and the objective, did it fit the chosen form if any? As long as you're happy with it, that's enough. If you want to sell it, then the bar is somewhat higher.
>> I did it any way.<<
Good for you!
>> I read it in front of people at coffee houses. At one point, my senior year of college, I read it in front of an audience of over 700 people. Just me. On stage. By myself. With a spotlight on me. Reading my poetry. My entire body trembling as I did so. My hands shaking along with the paper. <<
Yikes.
>>I had people tease and make fun of that.<<
I'm sorry you had to deal with so many awful people.
>> My brother saw me read - and his reaction was that he felt I was exposing too much of myself to the wrong people. Why wear your heart on your sleeve? Why expose yourself quite that much? <<
While it's true that exposing yourself can be risky, especially when surrounded by assholes, it is still your choice and nobody else's.
>> And indeed, one of the audience members, a wet-behind-the ears lad of seventeen, tactlessly asked to see the poem and stated, somewhat bewildered, the poem is horrible - yet your performance of it made it great.<<
That's a very teen comment, all right.
>> The problem with most poetry is it is intended to be read or sung or performed, it's like lines to a play - or a Shakespearean sonnet - it doesn't quite work merely read or played with in the head, you need to hear it too, taste it, touch it, interact with it. Hear the rhythm and the rhyme, and the metaphor.<<
Mouthfeel is an important aspect of poetry too.
That said, I also love sight poems and others that are not actually readable out loud.
>> And like all art, the beauty of it is in the eye of the beholder as is the artistry. It cannot be judged objectively, not really. <<
The aesthetics may be in the eye of the beholder, but the mechanics are much more objective. The syllable count either is or is not what the form calls for; the rhyme is either true or near; and so on. Some forms have a ton of objective parameters. Free verse doesn't, but even there, you can look at things like whether a metaphor is coherent or mixed and whether the author has inadvertently written a tongue-twister.
>> And those who deign to do so, the more fools they...full of themselves and their erstwhile snobbery and superiority of prose and rhyme, when in truth they are nothing but squirrels nibbling at the feet of a giraff that towers high above them neck stretched to the sky. Judge not for thy shall be held in judgement, and found wanting or so it says in texts far older than ours.<<
I've written, read, and edited a lot of poetry. I can say that I know what I'm doing because I've had individuals pay me more for a single poem than the typical annual budget of a poetry publisher, and they wouldn't be hanging all over it if it wasn't capable.
But while reading and writing poetry don't have to be hard, editing it is definitely a lot harder than editing prose. In poetry, every little bit has meaning and moving one is like trying to fish the ladder piece out of pickupsticks. You can do it, but it takes a lot of practice. When the difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between lightning bug and lightning, I don't think it's good to deny poetry the opportunity for improvement through editing.
>> For myself, all poetry is worth something to someone. None are a waste. <<
True.
>> To either those throwing them up on the page or those taking the time to read and parcel out their truths. I find it disingenuous to critique art or poetry, particularly by those who create it.<<
Up to you. Me, I like to examine things and think about them and talk about them. It doesn't necessarily make them less good, or more good. If we don't critique it, we end up with ... well, the heaps of modern poetry written by people whose writing teachers told them that poetry was ineffable and couldn't be edited. :/ I tend to prefer the older stuff by writers who scribbled all over their drafts before finalizing it. Granted at this point I do almost all my editing in my head -- putting it on paper triples the time it takes -- but it is still in there. And I rely on my readers to spot typos I missed, or point out things that don't work or cause problems. That's not to everyone's taste and it's fine.
>> Perhaps that's the waste of a life? Caring too much about how others perceive us? Define us? Or view us? Caring too much about how we market ourselves and our wares? Caring too much about the accolades? <<
I think part of that depends on whether one derives one's sense of worth from the inside or the outside. For people who need it from the outside, those opinions are crucial. However, it's easy to get caught up in what other people think and be miserable because of it. Fame is an ass.
Whether it's a waste, though, that's only for each person to determine. Other people might have opinions but it's not their life.
>>How they all want them, but how they are all meaningless and all the authors know they are meaningless - since it is just a select few who even select the winners, and little more than a popularity contest.
But still wanted all the same.<<
Depends on the award. Some have little meaning, others much more. Some are juried, chosen by a small team, who might be experts in some field(s) or just random folks who felt like doing an award. Some are wide open. Some have membership voting, which has a means test, but at least you've got a group of voters who are fairly well invested in a topic. Some awards aren't so much about backpatting authors but about finding the best examples of possibly hard-to-find things, like the James Tiptree Jr. Award -- back before the internet made it easy to find obscure topics (but says little about quality).
I've managed awards. I'm still involved in the Rose & Bay Awards for crowdfunded creativity. They're not simple things. They can be a silly popularity contest, or a tool for promoting meaningful works.
>> I'm trying to turn off the critical mind. That rips and tears. And stomps on creative impulses. That questions what I've wrought. Saying it's not good enough. Seeing the flaws and cracks within.<<
One of the better pieces of writing advice I've found was: "When writing, convince yourself that it's the best thing ever written. When editing, convince yourself that it's a piece of crap that needs to be butchered with red ink."
>>I've realized that I struggle with compliments. Mother says that I almost get defensive about them. Which is an odd thing to say? I'd say I'm more surprised by them? And find myself doing a double-take. Wait? What? What did you say? Could you say that again please, so I can take it in and actually believe it is real and not imagined? <<
That's a fairly common response when people are used to others being indifferent or nasty. But there's advice on taking compliments, some of which can be useful.
>>We should walk hand in hand, I think? And not in competition. I've always hated competition. Yet, it appears to be as ingrained in me as everyone.<<
Some people like competition, others really don't. Cooperation is an option. So is solo or parallel play, and ignore anyone who says those are for infants only.
If you want to explore alternatives, check out cooperative games. There are all-cooperative ones, and mixed ones with both cooperative and competitive aspects. Frex, in Chrononauts, you all have your own goals to pursue for winning -- but you have to avoid making so many holes in the timeline that it unravels and you ALL lose.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-04-01 04:57 pm (UTC)Well, yes and no? I'm on the fence about this. It's kind of like baking an apple pie? Some people just don't like apple pie. Some do. That's obviously subjective. Apple pie in of itself doesn't really have a "functional" purpose - ie, you don't necessarily need "apple pie" but life is better for a lot of folks with it than without? Also subjective. But, how you make apple pie or the ingredients are for the most part objective. It should be made in a "pie" shape, or it's not accurately pie, and it needs to be made from apples (or it's not apple pie), and you should have sugar, some type of thickener or liquid such as maybe lemon juice, although not necessary, some use gelatin (not a fan), so there are options that are subjective within that. Plus there should probably be a crust - although you could try a crustless pie, but that's usually a crumble. And the crust can be water, butter, lard, and various types of flours and a touch of salt depending on tolerance. And if you are baking for a contest or competition or just a bake shop and selling the pie? It helps to know the type of apple pie they prefer, and the tastes of those buying or judging the pies. (ie. don't bake a regular wheat flour pie if the shop is "gluten-free" only.) That's both objective and subjective simultaneously?
Likewise with a poem? There are clearly different forms, and everyone has their preferences. Some love Haiku, some love Iambic Pentameter (or Sonnets), some free verse, some limerick, some canto, etc. (I've not studied, written or edited poetry since the 20th century, so ....and how weird that I can just say that without putting a date on it.) Anyhow, if you are entering a Haiku contest or submitting a Haiku for publication - it clearly should be a Haiku and conform to those rules. However - which Haiku out of twenty Haiku's that all fit the rules is chosen? That's subjective.
Same with buying something. Back to the pie analogy? If you prefer a tart pie - you may turn away from one made with extra sugar, and no lemon or with Macintosh apples. But if you don't like a tart pie, and hate lemon - then you'll want one with Macintosh, sugar, and cinnamon, unless of course you are allergic to cinnamon, then not so much.
With poetry? I may love the poem about a Red Balloon, but hate the one about the Clown. It has zip to do with how well written the poems are. If I'm willing to pay for the Red Balloon poem over the Clown poem, that doesn't say anything about the quality of either poem, any more than it would if I bought say an Apple pie with no cinnamon and no lemon, over say the one with both. It tells you more about me than the poems or pies.
Most criticism tends to tell us more about the person doing the criticism than the object of it.
So, I think the bar isn't necessarily higher for publication? Just that the tastes may be more "specific" or "difficult"? Not always the case of course. Some people can be rather snobbish about their tastes - and think, well, all apple pies must have cinnamon, and it is blasphemous to have an apple pie with a gluten-free crust or without lemon in it. Same with poetry? Some people may be rather specific on what a Haiku must sound and look like and what it should be about. Certain metaphors don't work for them at all. This is true in fiction and novels as well. I've run into editors who can't handle conversational prose, using the word "can't" would give them a fit while the text requires it - because that is simply how the character speaks. But some editors believe that we should not write as we speak, and only formally. That's subjective taste not objective.
(I edit construction contracts, legal memorandum, technical scopes of work, specifications, and financial justifications in my line of work, among other things - so format nitpickiness is something I'm familiar with. They get upset in my workplace if the margins don't align, and the correct verbiage. Whether this is really objective, or just an individual manager's quirk - I'm not certain? I mean do we really require the word henceforth and hereby and wherefore in the text? I think no. But I digress.)
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-04-01 05:15 pm (UTC)Except, it comes down to who should be the arbitrator of taste? Because to a degree yes - you can objectively critique any piece of writing for clarity, conciseness, and originality. If a student copies another's work, or in this age, AI does, then of course that should be critiqued. Or if the student tries to pass off something that well doesn't make sense - than yes. But if they write something akin to a Hallmark Card Greeting, sappy, and sentimental, who am I to judge? I may hate it, but am I correct in judging it?
I guess what I'm getting at is the line is somewhat blurred in "creative" writing in regards to criticism, when it is less so in "functional" writing or "business or legal or academic" writing or what some may more accurately entitle "formal" writing. I don't think for example that we can critique dreamwidth posts? Because people write differently and use DW differently? I tend to be "spontaneous" and less formal here. (Mainly because at work - I write formally with specific rules, guidelines, and tone. And desire a break from it.)
In critique of artistic expression - there's a fine line between critiquing the rules, grammar, etc, and the expression itself. Or can be. It's easier with students or amateur writers - in that they make clear mistakes, which require a copy-edit, and in many cases a good line edit. But a professional artist or writer, or even one who has been doing it for some time and knows the rules, and more importantly when and how to break them - it becomes a bit more difficult.
There is for example - a huge difference between criticizing someone who simply screwed up a sonnet, and someone who deliberately screwed it up and played with it, to comment on the form. The later - the critique becomes - did they pull it off - and can we see the commentary?
I think at the end of the day - it comes down to the fact that art is communication or expression. And has the art (poetry, photography, film, novel, etc) conveyed the artist's intent or if they didn't necessarily have an intent (not all do) - a message that is clear? And how can it be made "clearer" not necessarily "better" but "clearer" to the reader or viewer? And less misunderstood?
[A caveat? I don't know how I truly feel about any of this, I'm just musing. I may well change my opinion on all of it next month.]
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-04-01 05:40 pm (UTC)Your reactions to each line of the poem were basically mine. I think you managed to break down why the poem irritates me? Thank you for that. I was struggling with why it grated. Free verse often grates more. I actually prefer the form or specific poems. Although I also suck at writing them - since I can't count to save my life. So anything that has a count to it - or a specific syllable count won't work. I attempted a sonnet once - which was a perfectly legitimate poem, it just didn't work as a sonnet. (The syllable count was off.)
I'm not much of a gamer - since I tend to forget rules that aren't logical and lose interest quickly. I take after my father in this respect. I do however play Redecor - which is just matching colors and fabrics to room decor - weirdly calming.
Thanks for the advice, but not really necessary - just musing for the sake of musing for the most part.;-) (I have a tendency to do that - just write it out and forget about it later.)
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2024-04-02 08:39 am (UTC)I'm happy I could help.
>> I actually prefer the form or specific poems.<<
There are a lot of interesting forms out there.
>> Although I also suck at writing them - since I can't count to save my life. So anything that has a count to it - or a specific syllable count won't work.<<
I can manage very simple numbers. Counting on my fingers, I can do syllabic poetry. But my math jinx is a field effect, it can affect other people at times.
>> I'm not much of a gamer - since I tend to forget rules that aren't logical and lose interest quickly.<<
*chuckle* In high school, my friends wanted to game in my writing world, so they handed me the AD&D dungeon master's guide and pushed me off the cliff. I sort of tried to follow the rules, but my friends quickly got bored of me looking things up. I said, "We can do one of two things: I look up the rules and you wait patiently, or I shut the book and you don't argue." They said shut the book. I shut the book. We had a blast.
It was many years later that I found the kind of game engine that really fits my style. It's elegant, it adapts to any context, and you can teach it and start playing in about 5 minutes.
>> I do however play Redecor - which is just matching colors and fabrics to room decor - weirdly calming.<<
That's a cool concept.
I'm doing a Poetry Fishbowl on April 2 if you want to drop by and watch the fun. Prompts are welcome but lurking is totally fine. The theme is "Screw this, I'm out of here!" I love my fans. They give me such neat ideas.