What it is.

I have decided to just write here.  I'm not going to go for the ad thing where I can make money from this, or whatever.  That's not why I started this blog.  I want to put into words some of the stuff I'm dealing with.  The main problem, as is with most people, is this thing called life getting in the way of what we want to do.  Granted, my life is probably less intrusive in that regard.  I have a steady source of income, although it's barely adequate.  The important thing there is that it IS adequate, and I'm clinging to that.  I'm heading in the direction I want to go, and will become what I have been for most of my life in several years.  That sounds oxymoronic, and to a point it is.  I am studying to be a counselor.  I've done it for most of my life, and have actively sought out opportunities to help other people.  This class is good, though.  I'm learning how to help people without putting myself in jeopardy in some way.  I needed this thirty years ago.  Okay, maybe forty years ago. 

What does that have to do with poetry?  Everything, in my opinion.  Poetry, for me, is the essence of the thing.  You can lie in poetry, and many people do, but to me that defeats the purpose of it.  For me, it's like a Buddhist thing, where you get beyond the mundane, the routine, whatever, and get to what really matters.  That attitude brings its own problems, though.  What really matters?  Who gets to decide?  Then, add in the possibility of assuming another persona in the poem, and it gets really confusing.  One of my strong points is my ability to put myself into someone else's shoes.  I have the ability to feel what others feel in certain situations.  Now that I've written that, I have to question if it's real, or just another delusion.  I think it's real, because I am able to connect with other people, and in order to do that you have to be able to relate.  In order to relate, you need to be able to share, and the only way you can share is to know the feelings involved.  The purpose of poetry is to allow others into the space that contains those feelings or experiences.  I differentiate because two people can share an experience and come away with completely different feelings.  Maybe if I share an experience of sitting beside a lake, or the experience of standing in a pasture, eating grass and looking down a nearby road, it will pass along some kind of kindred feeling.  (Oh, you thought I was just talking about human feelings?)  Who knows.  I know I like to do it, so I do. Here's one I wrote one day when I was feeling mostly lack, but not totally. 

Empty Lot of Nothing

There's an empty lot
of nothing over there
a few blades of grass
some trash
but mostly nothing

Can you hear it calling?
What does it want from you?
Could be a social project
turn it into something
other than what it is

It seems fullfilled, an odd word
it just is, and in it's is-ness
fullfills us
it's not used
up to nothing

Leave it
but not alone
it's a place
empty in it's existence
it's how I know it.

c. 2011 C. Thames