Pocket Medicine

                                                           






















The Peace Of Wild Things 
        by Wendell Berry


When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, 
I go and lie down where the wood drake 
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. 
I come into the peace of wild things 
who do not tax their lives with forethought 
of grief. I come into the presence of still water. 
And I feel above me the day-blind stars 
waiting with their light. For a time 
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. 

[Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day! (To read the poem I chose last year, click here). For me, poetry IS medicine, and so placing a hand copied poem next to my insulin pump becomes a symbolic gesture of healing. I love the idea that the message Mr. Berry conveys here is working synergistically with my insulin to bring me to a place of peace and well-being. What poem did/would you choose for your pocket today?]

A Poemcrazy Giveaway

I can't believe it's already the last week of April! Which means, sadly, the last week of National Poetry Month. I thought it would be fun to spend some of the week exploring how to write your own poems. Though I'm not sure there is such a thing as "how to" when it comes to poetry. (If you've seen Dead Poets Society, you know what I'm talking about- "Be gone,  Mr. Pritchard!"). Anyway, if there is one book that I would recommend for setting aside inhibition when it comes to writing poetry, it is poemcrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge.   

I love this book because it is NOT a heavy dose of academia. The short chapters are chock full of Ms. Wooldridge's own experience with the power of poetry- as writer and teacher. There are exercises, anecdotes, famous poems, as well as, those of her students(who range in age from elementary students to adults). Often, I simply open it to a random chapter, and let the Muse that inhabits those pages carry me. I have found that following her suggestions, playing with words, toying with who I am in poem form, does in fact set me free from a long day of crappy blood sugars or a bout of depression. Sometimes, it's not even troubled emotions that draw poemcrazy into my hands. Sometimes, it is about the moment, about laughter and wanting to find a beautiful way to translate joy into words.
One of my favorite chapters is "Our Real Names." Here, Ms. Wooldridge invites us to play with the idea that our real names aren't necessarily the ones on our birth certificate, rather they are made up of our passions, our fears, our wildest dreams. She says: Poetry can be about naming ourselves. And creating a name can be like writing a poem. As part of the prompt for discovering our real name, she also incorporates the idea that it can change over time. Here's a (slightly embarrassing) example of my own name searching.

Yesterday, when you asked
 I offered only sugardrenched and hopeless
Today my name is horsedaughter wild as wind
Just try and catch me-
Tomorrow my name
Begins with
Belly
Swaying-hip poet
Hopedancer

Poemcrazy has inspired me to connect the dots of my life with images and words. It has helped me uncover magical places I didn't know were hidden away and acknowledge the darker corners, illuminating them with a bit of starlight.
Because this book is so wonderful, I would LOVE to give away a copy! To enter yourself in a random drawing, simply leave a comment below and sign it with one of your "real names." Be sure to post your comment by midnight(CDT) this Friday, April 29th. I will announce the winner on Sunday, May 1st!

 

Is that an Insulin Pump, I Mean, a Poem in Your Pocket?

 

                                                                        Remember

                                                                       by Joy Harjo

Remember the sky that you were born under, 

know each of the star's stories.

Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her 

in a bar once in Iowa City. 

Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the 

strongest point of time. Remember sundown

and the giving away to night. 

Remember your birth, how your mother struggled 

to give you form and breath. You are evidence of 

her life, and her mother's, and hers.

Remember your father, his hands cradling 

your mother's flesh, and maybe her heart, too

and maybe not.

He is your life also.

Remember the earth whose skin you are.

Red earth yellow earth white earth brown earth

black earth we are earth.

Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their

tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,

listen to them. They are alive poems.

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the

origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war 

dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once.

Remember that you are all people and that all people

are you.

Remember that you are this universe and that this 

universe is you.

Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you.

Remember that language comes from this.

Remember the dance that language is, that life is.

Remember 

to remember.

[Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day! Joy Harjo is one of my favorite poets. (Last year, my husband drove me 3 1/2 hours so I could hear her speak)! And "Remember" is truly one of those poems I have carried with me since the first time I read it almost 20 years ago. It is what I call a spirit poem. I hope some of the lines resonate with you. And, can I just say, I LOVE the idea of carrying a poem next to my insulin pump?! This may become a habit! What poem do you have tucked in your pocket today?]

"Wild Geese" and Diabetes

After a long day (or week or month) of struggling to bring blood sugars into balance, when I am exhausted from playing pancreas and feeling inadequate to the task, when I cannot face the judgment of the numbers on my glucose monitor- I have found Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese" brings me back to a gentler awareness of my relationship to my body. Her simple and subtle brilliance asks me to remember my connection to the larger world, and, thus, move away from my own suffering. I experience a rare physical peace from reading this poem.

                                                            Wild Geese

                                                           by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

    love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

April is National Poetry Month!

Happy April everyone! Not only is it one of my favorite months because spring is showing up almost everyday, but also because April is designated as National Poetry Month! When I was 8 years old, I searched out hefty volumes of poetry at the library. I would then sit at my desk copying poems into a notebook of multi-colored paper. I loved the way the words looked on the page. How they sounded to my ear. I knew the authors were speaking of birth and death. Of life and laughter. Long before I could articulate their meaning, I knew poems were important.

I maintained this practice of writing favorite poems into my notebooks and journals. By my teens, I was obsessed with Wallace Stevens and Edna St. Vincent Millay. Dylan Thomas and Emily Dickinson. In my early twenties, I began seeking out more women poets: Joy Harjo, Linda Hogan, Alma Luz Villanueva, Alice Walker. Friends handed me Mary Oliver. Pablo Neruda entered my life. Rumi danced into the room.

Alongside these incredible voices, I began writing my own poems. These writers taught me that the most ordinary details of my life contained beauty and mystery. That sometimes the only way I could make sense of a moment was to create a poem from the tiniest pieces. Even my broken pancreas contained the possibility of healing when viewed with a poet's eye.

 And, since I am so head over heels in love with poetry, I've decided to devote my blog this month to sharing with you some of my favorite medicine. Look for poems, poets, book reviews, movie suggestions, and even some giveaways!