Blogging affords so many opportunities. To connect, to receive feedback, to edit, to obsess. It shines a light on the writer’s process, inside and all-visible. What a gift.
(You can imagine me saying this with genuine enthusiasm or dripping with sarcasm and be right either way.)
The feedback piece is particularly significant for me a the moment. I’m challenged with perspective right now in my writing and my life – unbalanced in the big four corners of relationship: take in, share impact, offer out, receive impact. My rectangle is askew, swollen with the taking in. This is a comfy, risk-free place to be. I have been reading books, listening to you talk, reading your blogs… choosing to sit quietly in response. It’s nice sometimes, but gets unsatisfying quickly. My own bubbles begin rising to the surface and knock on the door, you don’t know that I’ve been listening to you or reading, and the world starts feeling bigger and more alone. Relationships and communities and creative energies are organic, living things that wilt and break down when left untended.
I forget this, then I remember. Today, I remember. To all of you, my friends, please consider this an apology for my neglect in the sharing feedback loop, recently and probably for most of our relationship. (And look for a spree of blog comments from me shortly.)
Last night I made an offering – writing and posting a poem here. When I do this, the little stats graph that charts the number of visits to my blog magically leaps up and comments start coming in. For sure, I am guilty of seeking validation for my little ego, but far more valuable is the hearing and understanding of how my words impact you. It grows me as a writer and as a person and I am ever-so grateful for your thoughtful honesty.
One such piece of meaty feedback goodness inspired a re-write of last night’s poem. It is new to me, this ultra-visible experimentation. Like inviting you over to try my new soup recipe. May I be so bold as to ask you how it graces your palate and lands in your belly? Missing nutmeg? Too much pepper?
head loll down and to the side
let jaw go
chest balloon blow in, out
worry about dishes that haven’t broken yet
soundtrack: pulse, night, honey
make up stories
see flowers in the dark
psychic message in a bottle: delivered
stop for kitten
think about work
the un-want is hot again.
wrapped tight, moving nothing
hands and elbows push out the skin suit
from inside ribs face skull
cooperation is a choice.
wrap it tighter.
I want to feel what I’m breaking