Every Day Is a Poem Jacqueline Suskin (knowledgeable books to read txt) 📖

are writing for. When I was in college, a writing professor asked each person in our class to consider: Are you a poet just for yourself? Do you want to show your writing only to your friends? Maybe you wish to write only for a tiny group of readers who like esoteric prose? Or maybe you want to write for everyone and anyone?

By answering this question, you allow yourself to find your voice. If you’re writing for just yourself, you don’t need to think twice about what comes out because it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but you. If you want to write for others, you have to think about accessibility and how to edit your work to be sure you’re showing all that needs to be shown for widespread comprehension.

Who are you writing for? It’s a helpful question that can unleash a freedom if you’re making private work or inspire discipline if you wish to write something more universal.

I made the choice to write for everyone and anyone. I’ve always wanted my work to be fully accessible. My poetic purpose has solidified and widened over the years. I’m moved by the core consideration of doing everything for the earth and have elaborated on what that can mean. One night, while meditating on why I do what I do, the following poem flowed out onto the page. It’s this kind of list that I’d like you to write for yourself now.

You can be vague and universal, or you

can be immensely specific and personal.

Just try and ask yourself why you want

to write, what you think your voice has to

offer, and let this offering be enough no

matter how unassuming or bold.

What do you serve?

What is your poetic purpose?

POETIC MINDSET TIP

HOLD ON TO YOUR PURPOSE ALL DAY LONG

Finding our purpose on and off the page is a long and winding road that asks us to dip into many facets of our character, interests, and passions along the way. Knowing your purpose is synonymous with knowing who you are. This is a lifelong human expedition, and if we can learn to check in with our intentions and motivations throughout the day, we can better understand who we are and what we need to thrive.

You don’t just need to find your clarity of

purpose as a writer; it’s a mindset that

affects your whole life story.

Just as you can add meaning to anything, you can add purpose too, and any purpose is valid. So, your job might seem somewhat uninspiring and tiresome, but if you’re constantly checking in with your purpose for working there (for example, to support your family, to fuel your dreams as a painter, to receive great health benefits so that you can take care of your body and in turn savor adventures around the globe), then you can find an ongoing spark that adds justification to your daily endeavors. This is a mental practice that involves a ritual of reminders, the consistent appreciation for why you do what you do and why it matters.

The moment we let go of our purpose, our

own worth can go away with it. So, holding

on to purpose is in turn a radical act of selfpreservation.

As the weight of the world

never lightens, loving yourself and upholding

a persistent mantra of purpose can be a

poetic gesture of wellness and joy.

chapter 4

SHARE YOUR ANSWERS

Everything she said was like a

secret voice speaking straight

out of my own bones.

—SYLVIA PLATH

We all want to know more. Humans crave knowledge. As we explain ourselves through language, as we express the distinctions between our senses, as we collect images and explore them on the page, we’re illuminating others by sharing our perspectives.

Show us the magic of this planet with your words. Show yourself the gorgeousness that surrounds you every day, and ask yourself, why is it so stunning? What about the view of the mountains moves you? Why is the color of her eyes so striking? Why is that song so arresting?

I love to keep asking why as I write. I sometimes discover a mysterious answer, sometimes a very concrete and logical one, but the question itself always prompts some newness in my work. For example, this is the epigraph at the beginning of my book of poetry The Edge of the Continent Volume One: The Forest:

Why do you love the forest so much?

It’s my home.

How do you know it’s your home?

It’s the only thing my eyes want to see.

I not only ask the questions but also share the answers. Even when they’re wholly personal, there is a chance that my findings will resonate with someone else simply because I’m human too.

I have a theory about this deep-rooted human desire to share. When something significant occurs, let’s say when I see an eagle flying above me, the moment is that much more special if I can share it with someone else. I’m a huge fan of solitude for thinking and self-restoration, but when I delight over the wonders of life, I’m compelled to share them, to give them to someone else in the hope that they’ll be just as or more inspired than I am. I give the moment to them through poetry, and therefore, I honor the moment by sharing it.

This is poetry: it’s an exchange of moments,

an offering of answers, a place where

others can join in the lesson of wonder.

I often think about the way other writers have helped me out of my darkest places with their words. By sharing their work, they show me their approach to dealing with the pain of living and their connection to sorrow that’s so similar to mine. I read their words and think, Wow! If these writers, these fantastic creators, hadn’t offered up their view, I wouldn’t make it through this life. And so I choose to do