embrace the wound.

robert bly's iron john has been calling to me for about a year now. i remember the few times i've held it at book stores, caressing its cover, thinking about purchasing it. each time, i've slid it back onto the shelf and moved along.

not yet.

i'd say.

i don't know what it takes to make me actually read a book, but i do pray about every book i read. i ask for the next one. i've a stack of books right now i am praying my way, reading my way through. they seem to hit me at just the right time, literally capturing my syntax and the very words of my prayers and conversations. this astounds me every time, still.

at my first open mic, i went early to "find my book." and in the process came across bly's little book on human shadow. i wasn't sure why i wanted it, but a poet had mentioned wallace stevens to me and as i flipped through, bly had written an essay on stevens' dark side. so i held it close to as i walked away, uncertain of what it would hold, hoping it was good, and if not good, at least interesting.

i found the little book to be perfect for my place in life. bly's comments about shadow, a poet struggling with darkness, understanding it and breaking it down was just what i needed. you see, i don't want to excavate and remove the darkness i've come to understand. i want to incorporate it. find a way to live at peace with the darkness i've come to understand resides in me (in us all really, some just don't know it, or have not reckoned with it).

bly commented that poets must let the shadow come into their work.

my heart sighed in relief. my work vacillates between two things lately, ecstasy and shadow. seems there is no inbetween for me. but i am willing to let that be the case for as long as it need be. i knew it was time for iron john. to at least add him to the coffee table pile for consideration.

opening iron john, i passed over a book written for women, for this book written for men. i tried to read the women's book, but it just wasn't what i needed to be reading. so iron john called to me again.

this time i opened him. and read. and didn't stop reading. won't stop reading until it is finished. this book is partner to the wild women book i have come to love. it is about the wild man. a poet writing about wild men. there is so much there that pertains to my situation, i find myself sighing in relief as i read something from someone who understands. who gets it.

embrace the wound,

bly writes [my paraphrase].

yes.

only by embracing the wound, not turning away from it, not running off in denial, but squaring shoulders with our wound, only by looking into the eyes of the wound do we ever find our way through it.

i cannot recall where i read this but one person said the darkness gives depth to work. shadown creates perspective. the intricate carvings of pain in our lives make them more magnificent. if we can stop being afraid of them. if we can find a way to embrace the wound.

bly's poetry is calling to me now.

poets are astounding people. i have come to understand a great deal of their depth and quality of character by interacting with them in my small poetry groups. my prayer for them is that they would find what they need, whether it be community, publication, a reader, inspiration. and that through it all, God would be glorified. poets don't get it all right. but i believe we have a purpose (more on that later).