This subject of the absence of poetry pushes a button for me because it represents so much of what is essential, but often lacking in our lives as Canadians. My favourite teachers were poets - Mike Villeneuve at McNair Sr. Secondary, Jon Furberg at Langara/Vancouver Community College, and Eugene Peterson at Regent College, but also the prophetic people along the way, like Elbert Paul. But their most powerful words have been rarely written down. It seems the medium of written poetry has been lost, or at least the public poetic voice has shifted away from print and common speech. Books of poetry are rare because they don't sell. In an age of information, it makes sense that prose dominates our communication, almost to the point of a loss of meaningful metaphor, where we are left with over-used clichés. Prose has become the dominant language of Modernity, precise and unambiguous, but lacking an appreciation for mystery; crystal clear but often as lifeless as a lake deadened by acid rain. If under-fifty Canadians want to hear poetry we buy a Tragically Hip CD. We hit play hoping to hear what life is really about, or at least what it feels like from the inside out – our hearts are touched by songs and films (even commercials). Our growing appreciation for narrative is great, and I’m sure the book industry is relieved, but this doesn’t fill the space of poetry. Reality TV, trying to make our humanity entertaining, often only makes us feel better about ourselves in contrast to people with “real problems”. I’m not sure if we can learn significant life lessons through watching Jerry Springer. This is very different from contemplating and meditating on a parable or life metaphor, which is designed to get past our defence mechanisms, to the core or heart of who we are or want to become.
I've often wondered why I see such little emotional responsiveness in news reporters when announcing a heart-breaking story. Of course all languages are limited – you can’t say “I love you” in mathematics. Similarly, prose has limits as a literary form. Or is what we notice to be absent in our mass media, a more fully human element, a manifestation of something else? If tearing up or an angered outrage at injustice are unprofessional for a news reporter, what does mature Humanity look like on TV? Where has poetry gone? I believe poetry has diminished because we are willing to hide or ignore something vital about being human that poetry tries to engage with. A type of self-protecting sabotage has allowed a dissonance between mind and heart that has had terrible consequences, not just the absence of word-smiths calling us to gaze carefully at ourselves in a mirror. Our valuing emotional detachment, instead of authenticity, empathy and self-sacrifice as signs of strength and maturity, has birthed generations of relationally challenged people, who are experiencing the breakdown of both family and marriage.
Have we not been witnesses to the loss of deep, committed friendships and the practice of hospitality, and are we not seeing wide-scale isolation, boredom, depression, addiction, and a preoccupation with ‘self-help’ merchandise to address our relentless and unmet craving to be more fully human? When ‘comfort is king’ is our inner mantra, and self-sufficiency our proof of personal empowerment, there is little impetus for the patience and self-sacrifice needed to be inter-dependent members of a community - or stay married. But where are the poets, the culture critics, the prophets, the public intellectuals? Where are all the new Whitman’s and Dylan Thomas’, like Michael Stipe and Gord Downie, who combine truth with music, poetry mixed with entertainment (otherwise we would never hear of them). Perhaps a day will come when we have the courage to seek the truth about ourselves without the need to feel good at the same time. But this would take the intentional postponement of self-gratification for the good of ourselves and others. Not sure if we are ready as a society for this level of commitment and personal involvement. We often only go to a counsellor (or doctor or mechanic) after the point of prevention, when things are really busted, when we feel we can’t cope with one more bit of bad news, even if it is the truth. Our cup is full and over-flowing with bad news and it is overwhelming to think that what is wrong with the world is also what’s wrong with our everyday lives.
I’m not sure if I’m prepared for the level of risk and adventure that taking myself, others, and my culture seriously would require. Listening patiently takes so much focused energy, and makes me feel out of control - responding instead of always trying to control others through my words, thoughts and feelings. The distractions in my life, generated by my ego, have often been too great and too easily rationalized and justified. But I know that knowing about my neighbour, without loving my neighbour leaves me feeling empty, and on a big scale is destroying not just my own neighbourhood, but our nation. Living for two years in Belfast, where Christianity is the state religion, showed us to what extent religiosity and respectability get in the way of simply following the teaching and model of Jesus - the God who loved his enemies and serve and lived among those in need. But I’ve also learned that life, and my life in Vancouver, can be just as detached, self-absorbed, oblivious to other’s needs, and unresponsive as anywhere else. In Canada, despite three decades of secular and religious voices begging us to step past superficiality and hyper-independence, pleading with us to embrace serious issues in our culture and lifestyles, some change has actually come, but not a resurgence of the esteemed place of the poet in society – not yet. Demanding political reform and accountability without asking the same kinds of reforms from ourselves seems to be only hypocritical finger pointing. If a turn-around in being good neighbours, let alone justice issues, is going to be birthed, things will have to start to change in our homes - if we want it in Ottawa. So how do we cultivate Canada and see more truth-telling/truth-revealing poets sprout up?
Check our own pulse. It is easy to say, but we have to work hard to make more room in our lives for both the poetic and the prophetic people around us and in our culture. Many of us, myself included, need to let our hearts grow hungry for a fuller depiction and appreciation of the truth, as well as to be seeking real encounters, conversations, and deeper friendships with people. The prophetic and poetic voices in my life are also calling me daily, challenging me to pick a fight-to-the-death slugfest against superficiality and triviality, and to embrace the biggest of life’s issues. But other voices are saying quit, drop-out, resist, survive and be insular. But when I respond with courage and self-sacrifice, I taste more of the freedom and joy I so crave. Is thus such as mystery? Seems we are hardwired to feel good when we do good to others (even observe others doing good) – so why fight what's natural? But I often do (a serious subject for another time). But if more of us would actually live responsively and give time and attention to our neighbours, colleagues at work, and people in our community, perhaps we’ll all get in on the good life together, and Lewis’ words ring true in our hearts: “There is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious.” Imagine a culture propelled forward by gratitude and enjoyment, and a sense of wonder – it’s not so easy, even when we try, to see transformation and growth in our own lives. You may say I’m a dreamer, but this is what poetry can nurture in us if we have an appetite for it. Our zero-calorie, low protein diet, cooked up by skeptics, cynics, contrarians, and postmodern sneerers has left us anaemic and weakened. The time is right for us to feast, celebrate life, and grow healthy as we pay attention to our poets.
I've often wondered why I see such little emotional responsiveness in news reporters when announcing a heart-breaking story. Of course all languages are limited – you can’t say “I love you” in mathematics. Similarly, prose has limits as a literary form. Or is what we notice to be absent in our mass media, a more fully human element, a manifestation of something else? If tearing up or an angered outrage at injustice are unprofessional for a news reporter, what does mature Humanity look like on TV? Where has poetry gone? I believe poetry has diminished because we are willing to hide or ignore something vital about being human that poetry tries to engage with. A type of self-protecting sabotage has allowed a dissonance between mind and heart that has had terrible consequences, not just the absence of word-smiths calling us to gaze carefully at ourselves in a mirror. Our valuing emotional detachment, instead of authenticity, empathy and self-sacrifice as signs of strength and maturity, has birthed generations of relationally challenged people, who are experiencing the breakdown of both family and marriage.
Have we not been witnesses to the loss of deep, committed friendships and the practice of hospitality, and are we not seeing wide-scale isolation, boredom, depression, addiction, and a preoccupation with ‘self-help’ merchandise to address our relentless and unmet craving to be more fully human? When ‘comfort is king’ is our inner mantra, and self-sufficiency our proof of personal empowerment, there is little impetus for the patience and self-sacrifice needed to be inter-dependent members of a community - or stay married. But where are the poets, the culture critics, the prophets, the public intellectuals? Where are all the new Whitman’s and Dylan Thomas’, like Michael Stipe and Gord Downie, who combine truth with music, poetry mixed with entertainment (otherwise we would never hear of them). Perhaps a day will come when we have the courage to seek the truth about ourselves without the need to feel good at the same time. But this would take the intentional postponement of self-gratification for the good of ourselves and others. Not sure if we are ready as a society for this level of commitment and personal involvement. We often only go to a counsellor (or doctor or mechanic) after the point of prevention, when things are really busted, when we feel we can’t cope with one more bit of bad news, even if it is the truth. Our cup is full and over-flowing with bad news and it is overwhelming to think that what is wrong with the world is also what’s wrong with our everyday lives.
I’m not sure if I’m prepared for the level of risk and adventure that taking myself, others, and my culture seriously would require. Listening patiently takes so much focused energy, and makes me feel out of control - responding instead of always trying to control others through my words, thoughts and feelings. The distractions in my life, generated by my ego, have often been too great and too easily rationalized and justified. But I know that knowing about my neighbour, without loving my neighbour leaves me feeling empty, and on a big scale is destroying not just my own neighbourhood, but our nation. Living for two years in Belfast, where Christianity is the state religion, showed us to what extent religiosity and respectability get in the way of simply following the teaching and model of Jesus - the God who loved his enemies and serve and lived among those in need. But I’ve also learned that life, and my life in Vancouver, can be just as detached, self-absorbed, oblivious to other’s needs, and unresponsive as anywhere else. In Canada, despite three decades of secular and religious voices begging us to step past superficiality and hyper-independence, pleading with us to embrace serious issues in our culture and lifestyles, some change has actually come, but not a resurgence of the esteemed place of the poet in society – not yet. Demanding political reform and accountability without asking the same kinds of reforms from ourselves seems to be only hypocritical finger pointing. If a turn-around in being good neighbours, let alone justice issues, is going to be birthed, things will have to start to change in our homes - if we want it in Ottawa. So how do we cultivate Canada and see more truth-telling/truth-revealing poets sprout up? Check our own pulse. It is easy to say, but we have to work hard to make more room in our lives for both the poetic and the prophetic people around us and in our culture. Many of us, myself included, need to let our hearts grow hungry for a fuller depiction and appreciation of the truth, as well as to be seeking real encounters, conversations, and deeper friendships with people. The prophetic and poetic voices in my life are also calling me daily, challenging me to pick a fight-to-the-death slugfest against superficiality and triviality, and to embrace the biggest of life’s issues. But other voices are saying quit, drop-out, resist, survive and be insular. But when I respond with courage and self-sacrifice, I taste more of the freedom and joy I so crave. Is thus such as mystery? Seems we are hardwired to feel good when we do good to others (even observe others doing good) – so why fight what's natural? But I often do (a serious subject for another time). But if more of us would actually live responsively and give time and attention to our neighbours, colleagues at work, and people in our community, perhaps we’ll all get in on the good life together, and Lewis’ words ring true in our hearts: “There is a kind of happiness and wonder that makes you serious.” Imagine a culture propelled forward by gratitude and enjoyment, and a sense of wonder – it’s not so easy, even when we try, to see transformation and growth in our own lives. You may say I’m a dreamer, but this is what poetry can nurture in us if we have an appetite for it. Our zero-calorie, low protein diet, cooked up by skeptics, cynics, contrarians, and postmodern sneerers has left us anaemic and weakened. The time is right for us to feast, celebrate life, and grow healthy as we pay attention to our poets.
