“They don’t have to be good,” said my friend, Rosemerry, “but they do need to be true.”
This is the bar my friend, the poet, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer set for herself when she set out to write and publish a poem a day in 2011, which was 12 years, and roughly 4000 poems ago.
They don’t have to be good, but they do need to be true.
Before that, if Rosemerry’s work wasn’t good, she wouldn’t publish it because why would she want to put out anything into the world that wasn’t good? She used to be like that. But since making the commitment to write and publish one poem a day, she had to change the bar to make it happen.
She had to hone for the truth.
That changed a lot for her. The perfectionism, for starters, and allowing herself to be seen publicly in a less than perfect manner. That alone. Huge.
And since she had to come up with something to write about every day, she found herself moving through her days with her eyes and ears peeled for anything that might speak to her. And that became a noticing practice, which slowed her down and made her more present and aware of where she was. And the more present she became, the more the world spoke to her, and the hungrier she became for that conversation with the world.
So what started as a need to write a poem, became a practice in staying present, and the poem was more of a byproduct of that; icing, but not the main meal.
I know it wasn’t easy, and the changes didn’t happen immediately – that’s what Rosemerry told me. But over 4000 poems later there is more freedom in her writing and in the ways she shows up.
Presence over performance.
I don’t think of myself as a performer, per se, but I think anytime you get up in front of people and lead something, as I do, or anytime you put work out in a more public venue – like a blog – there is a performance-like aspect to it.
What I’ve noticed about myself in the last many months is the way I’ve felt held back. I’ve felt tight, uncertain, scared. I’ll start a blog post, then abandon it, not sure what I’m writing about or whether it’s valuable or important to me. I never want to take up space just to make noise.
And sometimes, the night before a live event online I dream the entire teaching – which sometimes helps me say what I mean to say in a more intuitive, dreamy way – but can also be because I’m super wound up, because I want to do be good – like really good – like out of the park good, and which has the effect of grabbing me by the neck and choking all the wild sweetness out of me.
In the Wild Family, I tell people we already love you as a way to help them to relax into the sound of their own ordinary, beautiful voice. A way to remind them to stop aiming for the gold ring, and stay present to where they are and to write from that place – which is always where the truth lives.
And so it’s time for mama to take her own medicine – again – I bet this is going to be a lifelong practice – and to remember Rosemerry’s courage to allow her work out in the world each day, unchoked, unsupervised, wild.
Listen to Laurie read the piece here …
If you’d like to register to join a free 5-day Wild Writing practice with me (your teacher who is continuing to learn), click here.
If you’d like to receive Rosemerry’s daily poems, click here.
Presence over Performance… something to remember every day. Our senses reveal so much. Thank you for sharing
Bottom line: Mining our truth is scary, but the success in embracing that truth is exhilarating and the expression of that truth in written word opens the door for the world to embrace their truth. A worthy task, indeed.
Beautiful. So much permission here.
What’s in a Name?
Shoulda
Coulda
Woulda
Damn I hate those three words
Representing the moments I let escape
Today, I shoulda stayed for the reading,
but I ran away as usual
Why do I resist?
Afraid of my imperfection? Afraid I will stumble?
Afraid of judgment? Resistant to sharing?
I hold back
Thinking I am not good enough?
Thinking I am above it all?
My separateness has always plagued me
Even the name separates me from every Sue, Mary, Jane
The moniker that pulls me into a different sphere
Has always done so
Did she intend it?
Pick a name no one has heard of
and then see what I might do with it?
Like a stone I have borne it
But it wears me down
I clearly never lived up to the splendor she hoped for
She made that clear
Not her fault
She
was just being honest
and I believed her.
Sedra
You make me think and feel
Sedra. Thank you
Sedra, this is incredibly poignant. Thank you for this extra gift this morning. Cherry on top of Laurie’s wisdom!🙌🏽 🍒 🍨
Yesss. All that blasted trying to be good. So constricting. But I can’t help but be struck by how, in a noisy world, there’s also something beautiful about your inclination to not “take up space just to make noise”. I admire that. There’s something very holy and human in it.
Anyway, your writing is never noise. Always helpful and lovely. Thank you.
love this from you today, Laurie. so much permission to simply show up – however we are – our imperfect, messy, and beautiful selves. deep breaths. and deep gratitude to you for always sharing so vulnerably.
Just finished copying into my journal: They don’t have to be good, but they do need to be true, and Presence over Performance. Now I have a question. How do you publish a poem a day? On a personal blog?
I’d like to come to the prigram on the 26th and could use the coupon. I signed up to receive notices. And am on the site looking for the coupon but can’t find it. Could you kindly send it in an email to me along w registration to the 27th if that’s possible in case fb doesn’t let me call it up again TY
Thank you Laurie!! I needed to hear this, to feel it, to believe it, to realise i was not alone. Your shared was like a hand of a little angel caressing my shoulder.
Thank you, Laurie!
I can relate.
Please know that your truth and wonderful teaching have helped move this stone away from just dreaming and into doing. ❤️
Without Expectations
By Larry LaVerdure
Give thanks for the silence by sliding deep into it.
Like dropping your head below, the water line
to find silence is buoyant, weightless.
Like the white noise of care, the refrigerator falls quiet.
The tank is empty, the space unoccupied. The mind is free.
Words have taken a holiday and left everything lukewarm.
The light is soft without shadows, without glare.
Still is a noun, is a verb, is an adjective, is everything.
Here is the point around which the universe revolves.
It admits neither life nor death nor struggle.
It asks nothing and tells nothing, but settles on the moment
like time’s equivalent of snow suspended in forever.
Silence is enough and yet it is nothing.
It is without drawing attention to itself.
It is a sigh without exhalation,
a flower without scent.
A wordless womb.
Water of weightless waiting,
without expectation or desire.
It is a flameless fire.
Silence is the balance between less and more.
It is a wave vacant shore.
It is a note free song.
It is the absence of right and wrong.
It is forever gone but always here.
It is vague, yet the epitome of clear.
It is white on white in 3D.
It is the wall on which I erase me,
opening to my infinite family.
Thank you, Larry.
Love your ways of being in the world, Laurie. Thank you for all you share.
Love this! XO