The Ocean Inside

Last night I read through all the "crash and burns" I wrote at the beginning of our creative writing classes this past school year. C & B is a stream-of-consciousness technique used to burn off things that are on the mind in order to open up to creativity. I always write with the class.

I was a bit taken aback by the many irritations I revealed in the writing. When I think of the school year, I seriously don't remember that stuff.  But then I realized it was because I "crash and burned" it -- I dumped it on the page so I wasn't carrying it.  Cool revelation. It was working!

Anyway, in October I came across a poem I wrote during the crash and burn. I immediately recognized the subject as being something in the book poemcrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge.  I had read a chapter called "the poemfish out loud as a way to get started in the crash and burn. (Some kids appreciate having the prompt to get them going.)

Here is what I wrote:

The poemfish swims
on rough days when no one
can remember who or what
they are. The poemfish won't
stop knocking at the door, coming
back for Chromebooks. The poemfish
thinks I wrote a referral when it
was just a lunch detention. The
poemfish knows it is not worth it
to let a student fail -- and the
poemfish really doesn't care. The
poemfish will write an ode to
something long ago & missed.
The poemfish will refill her
water bottle and order more
Rescue Remedy and go to yoga
because there is no better way to
adjust from a day of busy aggravations. 
The poemfish figures missing items
are not coming back and, oh well.
I want to settle into my house &
play mandolin and maybe finally
organize my music I said I would
do last winter. The poemfish knows
it's getting harder & harder to schedule
time with the writing group, our lives
so much busier and crazier. Yet
the poemfish has discovered that
her life can have balance. Yes --
balance after all.

3:20 pm    10/3/18

I was a bit delighted finding this, so I went back to the chapter in Susan's book and found this in the chapter:

The poems really are messages to me whispering, Be calm, go deep, go slow. There's a long poem brewing in me, "The Poemfish," still rough,

...When the poemfish moves
the sea lights up
with stars that dip and swim...
The poemfish lives
in the night ocean.
If you sleep mouth open
the poemfish might swim in.
You'll dream salty words
that swim away sideways, slow...

And now I remember. Worrying about what people think of me and my poems always gets me in trouble. I get lost "out there."  It's the process of writing poems that helps me bring my heart back home. It put me in touch with the ocean inside I can never lose, where poems come from and where I connect to me. (50)

When I go back and look at my "poemfish" poem, I see that it is full of past and present, of calming myself down, of coming to terms, of revelation, and yes, even a weird shift in point of view. In some cases the poemfish was other people who were coming and going. On first read, I think, What a mess. But in reality, it is a useful exercise in revealing the ocean inside, the place we are in any given moment when we are able to just let our thoughts glide by. This writing was connecting me to me. And that is all that matters.  That is what kept me afloat during the school year.

For that, I'm truly grateful!



(Painting graphic "Entre Amigo" by Felix Murillo)