I used to embrace, feel at home in the quiet, trust the silence. It’s harder these days, but I’m finding my way back.
Natalie Goldberg and The True Secret of Writing: Connecting Life With Language
I’ve been re-reading this book–I’m not sure when I last read it, but so much of it feels new to me. I’m not the same person I was when I first dipped my toe in that river–whenever that was.
In the book, she writes about the writing retreats she holds by the same name. She describes the retreats and gives some of the writing exercises she uses. The retreats are silent–mostly–and involve reading, writing, meditation, and walking. (I see there’s one scheduled for next summer!) I do love everything I’ve read by Natalie. She brings both light and depth, richness and simplicity. I consider her one of my mentors who I’ve never met. But this isn’t a post about Natalie Goldberg.
It’s about how I’ve become uncomfortable with silence–and finding my way back to it.
Trust the silence.
I used to trust the silence. Feel at ease just looking out the window or lost in my own imagination. I still meditate pretty much every day. But I find that I often need to play some calming music while I do to quiet my mind and allow me to find my center.
For many years, when my daughters were growing up and I taught full time, I didn’t have much quiet or alone time, except when I slept. But before then, when I was a child and young adult–back in the days before home computers and cell phones…I could sit for a long time, staring out the window or doodling or writing poetry in my diary.
I don’t remember exactly when that changed. Did it start with the pandemic? I think it started before that. Although I think it’s gotten more challenging in recent months. So many uncomfortable feelings have come up–the whole world changed in what felt like an instant. And I’ve spent a lot of time alone.
But even though–or maybe because–I’ve been spending more time alone since COVID, I find it harder to get through the day without music or YouTube or some TV show to keep me company (I’ve been watching Murdoch, a Canadian murder-mystery series on Acorn TV through my library).
I remind myself to breathe and accept the discomfort–instead of making myself wrong for feeling it. That helps. Time in nature–especially long walks–help. Tara Brach’s RAIN practice definitely helps. I wrote about this in My Life as a Waffle, too. I’ve gotten better at just sitting, breathing into the discomfort. It hasn’t gone away, but I’m more comfortable with it.
And poetry–that old friend–helps me, too. Writing poetry, reading poetry, sometimes breathing poetry.
Natalie wrote an essay titled “How poetry saved my life.” It’s in her book Top of My Lungs–which I’ve just ordered and am looking forward to reading. I feel that!
Back to Natalie–and Ikkyu
In the above-mentioned book, Natalie shares a poem by the Zen master, Ikkyu. I’m sure that it was in the book the first time I read it, but this time, it really resonated with me. Let me know what you think:
I can’t smell a thing can’t see their pink
but they’ll find branches next spring
More likely, he wrote this about a plum tree, but an apple tree is what comes to mind for me
Poetry Friday
That is my 2 cents/2 lines of poetry for this week. I want to sit and digest the image and feeling this poem evokes. It brings a sense of quiet, trust, hope.
And, thank goodness, there’s more poetry. Matt Forrest hosts this weeks Poetry Friday–Thanks! Earlier this week, he shared his poem, “Pillow” from Lee Bennett Hopkins last poetry collection, Night Wishes. It’s lovely–check it out! And he shares more about this book–including a giveaway in his Friday post!
Thank you for stopping by. Have a wonderful week. L’shanah tovah!
Very thought-provoking post, Susan! I often try to instill in students the importance of mindfulness in constructing poetry…in understanding one’s subject, in getting a sense of how one relates to the subject, and what it is about the subject that is worth writing about. Meditation, mindfulness, quiet…all can be beneficial, in so many areas of our lives!
Meditation, mindfulness, and quiet–and walking, too, for me–are all cornerstones in my life and my writing. I may stray occasionally, but I always come back.
I love Goldberg’s work and this emphasis on trusting the silence. It reminds me of our need for sleep – this is when the brain repairs itself. So the silences are when the soul restores itself. I will have to order Top of My Lungs… as to Ikkyu’s poem: In so few words he captures a longing for something that will return, be it plum, apple, or cherry blossom, and I rejoice on reading these lines because it just so happens that I wrote of the seasonal return of my favorite fruit today! The ever-magical, spiritual, interlocking threads of writing, and poetry … thank you for this lovely post.
Silence is an interesting phenomenon, Susan. It can become an uncomfortable position or it can be a life-saving one. I want to trust the silence. Thanks for the information on the book.
Thanks, Carol. I think I had to notice that I was avoiding silence before I could find my way back. Noticing–and accepting–the discomfort is a big step for me to reconnecting.
[…] Bruck shares her thoughts on “The Zen of Poetry” – and how she’s finding her way back to the comfort of […]
Very thought-provoking post, Susan! I often try to instill in students the importance of mindfulness in constructing poetry…in understanding one’s subject, in getting a sense of how one relates to the subject, and what it is about the subject that is worth writing about. Meditation, mindfulness, quiet…all can be beneficial, in so many areas of our lives!
Meditation, mindfulness, and quiet–and walking, too, for me–are all cornerstones in my life and my writing. I may stray occasionally, but I always come back.
I want that quiet and space. I love Goldberg’s work.
Quiet and space are definitely worthy goals!
Wonderful poem, Susan. “Find” is such a meaningful verb here.
Thanks for the tip about Acorn. I didn’t realize libraries did that!
Thanks, Tabatha–Our library gives us access to Acorn and the Great Courses through RB Digital–it’s pretty nice.
I love Goldberg’s work and this emphasis on trusting the silence. It reminds me of our need for sleep – this is when the brain repairs itself. So the silences are when the soul restores itself. I will have to order Top of My Lungs… as to Ikkyu’s poem: In so few words he captures a longing for something that will return, be it plum, apple, or cherry blossom, and I rejoice on reading these lines because it just so happens that I wrote of the seasonal return of my favorite fruit today! The ever-magical, spiritual, interlocking threads of writing, and poetry … thank you for this lovely post.
Thanks, Fran. I ordered Top of My Lungs–and am looking forward to reading it and looking at the paintings, too. Synchronicity is a wonderful thing!
Silence is an interesting phenomenon, Susan. It can become an uncomfortable position or it can be a life-saving one. I want to trust the silence. Thanks for the information on the book.
Thanks, Carol. I think I had to notice that I was avoiding silence before I could find my way back. Noticing–and accepting–the discomfort is a big step for me to reconnecting.