Category: Thoughts

Poetry’s resurgence

by MAÔ, posted in Poetry

I just finished writing about a life post-poetry, and was in Target browsing the meager book section. A book section with some shelf space devoted to books of poetry. Poetry! (Also, the Spanish language Cat in the Hat, which I very nearly purchased because… why not?)

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Given my meager Spanish, I doubt I could even understand it…

So, poetry. At Target. And thus I’m reminded of the growing poetry sections at Barnes & Noble. That poetry is still relevant has never been in question. But that poetry is seeing new consumption, that is the wonderful element to the story.

 

Post-poetry

by MAÔ, posted in Poetry

Have we moved past the age of poetry?
The verse that speaks most to us
is from an age gone by,
and as our language escapes us,
it seems less likely for us
to make use of the words
in the ways that the poets had.

We speak now in limited vocabularies,
forever adding words
To our dictionaries
but removing so many others
from our usage.
We stagger through life hindered
By our shrinking lexicons,
so suddenly incapable of
conveyance and appreciation
of language.

That it would be Gutenberg’s folly
To propel us in the ages of technology
While the actual inventions of his genius
Wither and rot to our consciousness.

Books no longer bound by conventions,
Electronic, delivered to illumined screens
and forgotten.
Words, too, sit unused, unheard,
Save for ramblings of intellectuals and
Essays, long-formed and mostly unread.

Where do unspoken words go?
What graves guard the deceased syllables
of prose and poetry?
When the world reduces its collective rhetoric
to mere utterances, what remains?

Learning to play

by MAÔ, posted in Sports

My great-grandfather George Heron was a professional golfer. My grandmother was an avid golfer most of her life, and my grandfather was a golf course superintendent. My father as well played, though hasn’t for some time.

I shoot like I’m swinging a baseball bat. It’s rather jarring how bad I am at the sport. However, it wasn’t something I was raised in. I didn’t learn about George H. until I was a teenager, at least. By that point, not ever having held a club, it’s easy to ascertain why it would be so difficult for me now. I haven’t played in a year, and that was just once in 2017.

So, out I go again. What I last wrote about frequency applies to golf as well, and there may be times when I ask clients out for a morning on the links. Though it’s okay for them to beat me, I don’t need to spend my paychecks on replacing all the golf balls I lost.

On frequency

by MAÔ, posted in Work

“Frequency makes starting easier. Getting started is always a challenge. It’s hard to start a project from scratch, and it’s also hard each time you re-enter a project after a break. By working every day, you keep your momentum going. You never have time to feel detached from the process. You never forget your place, and you never need to waste time reviewing your work to get back up to speed or reminding yourself what you’ve already done. Because your project is fresh in your mind, it’s easy to pick up where you left off.” – Gretchen Rubin

Where I find myself after every time that I take a break from writing. Blog, journal, whatever. One project I was excited to work on this year was a book on film craft, and I’m six months overdue on the projects I had planned.

I think it’s a common struggle for creatives – the real world difficulties that creep up. And, scope creep. Of life. Saying yes to projects that may hold a small level of interest, but should be said no to so that focus can be given to the truly meaningful tasks.

I’ve improved my “No” skills, but still not to the point that I need them to be. And as long as I fill my time with those “yes” things, I’ll reduce the time I have available for frequency.

To study

by MAÔ, posted in Work

My life is a rolling, rollicking mess. It’s not what I would have chosen for myself, but there are few things I would change.

I’m a student, trapped in my cell of a dorm and buried under a pile of homework with seventeen research papers coming due.

My core classes are finance, relationship studies, home economics, nutrition and psychology. My electives are philosophy, history, and yes, even writing.

I’m a student of life, as we all are. I’m no longer enrolled at University, but I still learn. There are stacks of books piled around my room, and I juggle them, figuring what to read and what to store away for later.

Right now, business is winning. I’m delving into classics that I have lying around: The Ask, Engage Now!, and Achieving Excellence in Fundraising. I’ve returned to the nonprofit sector after a year’s hiatus, and it’s been a whirlwind.

So, study I must!

Fail better

by MAÔ, posted in Pathfinding, Writing

Hmm… I lost a month. I was cruising along again, then stepped away from the computer. Rip Van Winkled it.

I’m back. I guess I could consider not writing to be a fail. No one is emailing me asking for more posts, so that’s fine though. It’s a personal journey for me. And really, it is all about the journey.

I started keeping a blog for two reasons. One, I like writing. I wanted to get what I had to say out there. It may not be viewed by very many people, and that’s also fine. But it’s me being accountable to myself.

And two, I had a lot to learn to be accountable for. The year of 2016, when I believe I really started blogging, was a struggle for me. I have pulled out of that turmoil, which may be a reason why I’ve been less structured when it comes to posting.

But I still journal most mornings, and these posts are additional. I like the tactile sensation of writing in a book, with pen, in cursive. Someone tried to read a couple lines and called it my ‘old-man writing.” That’s how I feel sometimes – like an old man.

Other times I forget that I’m in my thirties altogether, and behave much younger. Those times are interesting, and I realize that my body bounces back much slower than it used to.

Either way, I’m here posting now. “Ever tried, ever failed” as Beckett says. “No matter. Try again, fail again, fail better.”

 

Slacking off

by MAÔ, posted in Work

Took a little break, as I went into tech week for a show (Oklahoma!), as well as starting a new job. Thus far, all has been going well. Still, there has been some slacking on my part.

I haven’t been reading much. A couple of nonfiction books. I’ll include that in Friday’s post. It seems that I’ve been incredibly busy without getting very much done.

Busy doesn’t mean productive. Someone said that once. I think.

So what have I been doing?

Good question.

 

The Crazy Ones

by MAÔ, posted in Poetry

How do we say, oh crazy ones,
That the world is not ready?
Your time has either passed,
Or has yet to come.

You burn with unquenchable fire,
A flame none of us can comprehend.
Then we witness your struggle
To control your madness, your blaze.

The dying embers leave us empty,
An unsettling quiet in the pit of our soul.
You brought brilliance with you,
Gave us light from your very core.

I watched them die down,
Oh crazy ones. You fire starters.
Each great and mad all at once.

Better than most, yet misunderstood.
For how could we understand you,
We without the fire of madness?

A silent hearth, unsure of itself,
Whimpering in our complacency, waiting.

In some simple presence
Was enough to ignite passion,
Buried deep, long held silent
And at bay. The rules

No longer applied, for you,
The crazy ones, We who,
Like you and so many others
Before, after, and all time

In between: You called out to us;
Not knowing you were doing it,
Giving us the strength of your fire,
A spark that by itself could
Ignite the world.

Mere contagion will have to suffice,
As I and those like me bare the truth –
Since you are gone, Oh you,
Who were one of the crazy ones.

You have given us laughter, fear,
Compassion, understanding, fire… Hope.
We hope that we brandish your fire well.

Without fear, or hesitation. The way you did.

Time is a finite resource

by MAÔ, posted in Work

How do you spend it? What does your currency go towards? Are you doing things that make you happy?

Some of the more pervasive questions I’ve been asking myself of late. Over the past two years I’ve had roughly 4 different jobs, and I’m currently interviewing for a new position. (Several, actually, across disparate fields.) I’ve had okay “jobs”, and tended to excel in them. However, much of the work has been hollow. Or left me feeling hollow.

Certainly it’s a societal norm to trade hours for money. And we trade the best years of our life away in a notion that we’ll enjoy our retirement that much more.

Yet I’ve been reading the 4-Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss (finished it, and have actually begun rereading it). It’s one of those books that resonates with me. The Icarus Deception by Seth Godin was another. Business-focused, creative, and with just enough balls to say that the system may be wrong.

When I was a president of a board, I recall bumping against the mindset often; the mindset that was resistant to change because “it’s the way we’ve always done it.”

And if that’s the kind of mindset I have to fight tooth-and-nail with, is that really how I want to be spending my time?

I think not.

Icarus

by MAÔ, posted in Poetry

Cuckolded and cropped,
A shadow with no self.
Beaten, bruised, broken, bloody,
Footsteps falter beneath me.
Capped at this height,
Stunted; wingless.
Flightless Icarus
When once the sky.
Cleaved from the aether,
Dirt I reside.
In dirt I live.
In dirt I hide.
It is in the dirt
That I will die.
Countless words drawn from my lips
as looking above, I lie.
Bitter feeling enfolds my breast
Remembering the sky.