I was going to write a poem, but quickly learned that nothing rhymes with the word “avoiding”.
The line I was trying to rhyme with was
“…all the news that i’m avoiding”
Often I begin writing poems in the middle, and then branch outwards, like a pre-school child distributing a glob of finger paint on a large sheet of construction paper. This line was my glob of paint, and would not properly spread without a rhyme to match it somewhere. The closest I came was the non-word “reccognoiting”, which was so far off the mark as to derail the entire endeavor.
I wanted to write a poem dedicated to the end of this winter, one that properly redefined the season from its traditional role as fallow and quiet to something more closely matching my experience of the last three months.
Weren’t things supposed to just…not happen so much during winter? All the little sprouts hidden beneath the cold, cold ground, sleeping, waiting for warmer weather to sproot forth into the light? Instead of expressing this typical winter imagery, I was driven to a create self-confessional verse encompassing multi-layered viral infection, international military conflict, and a large scale hypoxia of empathy in some corridors.
This winter was discontent’s summer, which sprooted just fine, flourishing in news reports and social posts.
Maybe it’s not a great subject for light poetry.
Perhaps a haiku.
My dedication to consciousness is the problem; if I could sleep more deeply, or perhaps more often, there is no doubt that my ability to navigate life would benefit, but my body seems compelled to stand up and walk around; speaking to people, being aware of things. It’s entirely exhausting. I can barely maintain it for 18 hours at a time.
It is during all that “not sleep” time that I gain new knowledge as to the state of global human interaction, which is often the problem with the sleeping to begin with. It’s a cycle. It’s a news cycle. (Wait, that’s already another thing.)
So I was going to write a poem about the importance of remaining aware, how resiliency and character shine clearest during conflict, how the dreams we share require less sleep and more action, but I hit that “avoiding” rhyme problem and never even made it to my Oversized Helmet Metaphor.
The Oversized Helmet Metaphor.
I believe the scene goes like this:
a young man, passenger on a spacecraft rocketing toward adventure, begins his transformation from simple farmer to freedom fighter through an impromptu training session, where he must learn to deflect incessant shocks inflicted by a darting electrical sphere.
Armed only with a sword made of focused energy, he dodges and shifts and waggles his weapon wildly in an attempt to defend himself, to little avail.
His mentor then removes a helmet from the wall and places it atop the young man’s head, lowering a faceplate that covers his head entirely.
“With the blast shield down I can’t even see! How am I supposed to fight?” the young man whines.
Ok, I am the young man and the little laser ball is the NEWS. I don’t really have a weapon to fight with, save measured pragmatism, which I’m waggling about best as I can, but not enough to protect myself.
So I put on the helmet, which is ignoring the news (obviously), but still scroll past unavoidable headlines on my phone or get updates from BBC News.
Zap. BZZZZAP.
The wise mentor gives the young man strategic instruction.
“Your eyes will deceive you.” he tells the boy, “Act on instinct. Stretch out with your feelings.”
The young man tries this, and to his surprise deflects the electric blasts, and goes on to save the universe, until it gets bad again a few years later.
So, like a… largish group of Americans, I get most of my news in digest format from late night comedy monologues, which I understand is like picking up chicken at the grocery store where it’s all pre-cut and wrapped. It is a solid attempt to remain responsible and know what’s happening since I can’t possibly manage the constant zap! BZZZAP! ing.
It’s hard to stretch out with my feelings, but I try, and the practice actually does help navigate through all the chaos. But maybe I’m delving too deeply into all this and should just…wait. WAIT! I’ve got one!
these days if i was digesting
all the news that I’m avoiding
i’m quite certain my subconscious
would require ample Freuding
There we go. Something like that.
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