Since I started writing poetry again, I’ve learned a lot of things about myself, both as a person and as a spiritual being, unearthed trauma, past experiences, healed, and realized many things. One of those is that I’m finding a voice that I thought I didn’t have. I’ve had a complicated, tumultuous relationship with poetry, but I’m glad to say it’s changing for the better.
One of the things I’ve wanted to learn, get better at, and understand better was poetry because I know how important it was in the Pagan Middle East, how influential it was, along with the fact that, if I want to be a sha’ir, poetry has to be the first thing to learn about and practice. I’m finding it increasingly easier.
Writing has been a way to express myself, what I feel and what I experience, to explore feelings and thoughts, ideas and dreams. However, some of them can be too abstract for narrative, but some times I don’t feel I can express what I want, what I need, through stories. While verses and rhymes are a big element for me when writing poetry, it was also a restriction that kept me limited.
I’m far from writing a book of poems that I feel comfortable sharing, but what I feel is that it does connect me with my spirituality, with my own energy, and with the world outside, both physical and immaterial. There’s a freedom and sense of belonging that I didn’t experience before, a different kind of peace that keeps me both grounded in this plane both gives me back the capacity for wonder.
I’m sure there are different ways to do this, and I strongly believe that every poet and every person should find their own way to tap into that source of inspiration, but for me silence has been the best of catalysts. When working with narrative, I create endless lists of songs to stay inspired, to create an atmosphere, but with poetry it’s different. With poetry there’s a distinct privacy I don’t want to pollute with anything external.
When there’s total silence, it becomes easier to hear what I have inside, to contemplate all those thoughts without getting carried away with the stream like a helpless leaf in a wild river. I become an observer, and then I merge with it in a more harmonious way. It’s a symbiotic relationship of sorts that I’m still understanding.
Another thing that helps me connect is free writing. Just sitting down, in silence, no distractions, no noise, and letting my fingers do the rest. I don’t process what I’m doing, what I’m thinking, and I certainly don’t filter or edit anything. That inner river of ideas in my head flows through my hands and it becomes something tangible, something physical even if it’s only digital. With no limits and no preconceived ideas, no expectations, I get out whatever is trapped inside, ending with something I didn’t know I had.
There’s a simple exercise I did several times that helped me more than I expected. It’s simply using an image as a trigger and writing the first thing that comes to mind without judging. If you want to try your hand at it, you can work with any of the three images I’ve used so far, either those cropped versions, or the full first, second or third image.
Writing is a safe, private space for me, is something intimate that I don’t share until I’m ready to do it. You can safely say that it’s part of my spiritual practice, and while it’s not the only, it’s becoming one of the most important ones. When done correctly, I feel more connected than before, calmer, more open to whatever it is I need to learn, whether about myself or from the outside world.
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