Written by Paulette Bane
In the introduction to her collection “Voices in the Air,” poet Naomi Shihab Nye reminds us that “Quiet inspiration may be as necessary as food, water, shelter” and advises us to give ourselves “regular times a day for reading and thinking — even if just for a minute or two” (xiv-xv). Most of us would agree such pauses are helpful, even essential. But how many of us prioritize quiet inspiration in the same way we prioritize other necessary functions such as eating and sleeping?
Nye argues that no matter how busy we are, we do have time to pause. She asks, “How long does it take to read a poem? Slowing to a more gracious pacing — trying not to hurry or feel overwhelmed — inch by inch — one thought at a time — can be a deeply helpful mantra. It’s a gift we give our own minds” (xv). Nye’s advice rings true to me, a poet and lover of poetry, as well as the broader question she’s asking us to consider: What space can poetry open in our lives, and why do we need such apertures? Nye suggests taking a moment to read a poem will inform the other moments and activities of the day. The poem may become the lens through which we view an encounter, or the poem may inspire creative thinking about the world around us — the kind of thinking that elevates the ordinary, that is pro-creative, that solves problems and that laces our encounters with others with grace. Nye is talking about more than individual enjoyment or healing. It’s about community. Our cultural songs and stories can bind a community together as well as unite other cultures in global citizenship. But how does a poem perform such a function? How can reading a poem operate on both the individual and communal level? How does poetry inspire healing and unity?
When we turn to poetry, we approach it with an open heart, ready to be moved. We don’t know what we will encounter, but we want something: the stories of others, the stories in which we encounter our truer selves. We want emotions and experiences named and described; we want to feel things new, old or borrowed. This transformation begins with a pause from the momentum of the day. The poem is a liminal, or “in-between,” space outside of the structure of our daily grind. Dwelling in this state interrupts the forward movement toward the activities and obligations of our day. In this timeless, liminal space, a person can experience new ways of thinking or being in the world. But it doesn’t end there. What occurs in the liminal is brought back into the structure and invigorates it, bringing new understanding, growth and possibly healing.
We must slow down long enough to care for ourselves and others. Stopping to look, breathe and appreciate increases the likelihood of doing so again, or of pausing to avoid conflict, or choosing one’s words more carefully. Poetry can help us return to ourselves — to be centered, mindful beings that see the world and others with deep love, patience and wisdom.
If you would like to pause to read poetry, Souvenirs meets each Tuesday from 7-8 pm in the Honors House to read works by classic and contemporary poets.
