Sunday, April 28, 2013

How We Long for a Stay

(Last Immersion Journal)

I can't believe the semester's about over – I think I said that in my last immersion journal. I have a small story I want to share – words that I found while intensely distracted. Words that have to be true to the core, because I barely thought of what I was saying before I spoke. In my interview on how my chapbook was being put together, I was asked if the fact that I don't get credit for this assignment meant that it was less important to me than my other work. 

I answered by saying it's never been about college credits or grades. It's all for the poetry. It's about learning as I go. It's about the challenge. It is me doing what I love – writing poetry.
College credit isn't an incentive to do well and finish the project strong – the incentive needs to come from the subject matter. If I am invested, then I am invested regardless of credits – and conversely, if I am not invested the result is less interest in the class as a whole. I think that's a commentary on me – rereading that, it sort of seems that I am kind of a terrible student in some aspects, but still present in order to learn. That's the goal, anyway. I guess if I don't feel I'm learning anything worthwhile, I simply act like a terrible student. 

But that's beside the point. The point is, it's a moment I realized I really am a writer. Who cares if I have money? Who cares if I have college credits? And that whole extra year in school? Not a problem. As long as I write, for whatever reason, it'll all be okay. Maybe I'm tearing up a bit focusing on this. Maybe it's kind of astonishing that my brain thought of this as I really concentrated on drawing out the letters of my poem with a quill pen. Maybe it didn't matter how uncomfortable and difficult that actual process is... it's always been about writing. It's interesting how much self-doubt I carry subconsciously as a person, despite mantras of positivity. It's interesting how often you have to tell yourself that you are good enough. But you find out what really matters in moments like this. I guess this is why some people need to be reminded before they speak – because sometimes what really matters to your mind isn't tactful to say out loud. 

I want to conclude this immersion journal with one more rhapsodomancy reading.
I ask this time – what is essential that I should know right now in order to move forward?

“This flowing which is in us
is us – hear
how it rasps, sings,

even, not with
but towards its own kind
of staying: and this, and

this, and this
it whispers.
How we long for a stay.” (Pardi pg. 23. Poem: Two Hands)

Poetry, essentially, will tell us everything we need to know, the more we delve into it. It is used in divination, and so it becomes a tool to connect to our intuition. I have journeyed quite a bit on this path, and I have tried my best to convey that which defines me over the course of this semester. So this time I ask you – what is this poem trying to say? What is your interpretation for me?


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