The One With Poetry In His Throat
Artistic expression is many things for many people, and to me, poetry is, in part, therapy. As a struggling teenager, I was writing snippets of thoughts and feelings here and there, not realizing how cathartic it was. So, how does this tie in with SMGI®? Read on.
When I lived in Washington, D.C. in the mid-seventies, I went to an alternative school housed in a large former home with under a hundred students from 7th to 12th grade. The school was founded by Elizabeth Ely (1924-2009), who was an educator, innovator, maverick, and mentor. Not only was she involved with the school hands-on as the director, she also taught English composition. Always a keen observer of humanity, she noticed that I was struggling with my life, and she saw that I enjoyed writing. She gently encouraged me to write poetry as a relief valve to handle the existential angst I endured as a boy, and urged me in a way so that it became my idea to pursue poetry. I was spurred to read and write poetry.
Elizabeth Ely
Forty-six years later, I’m continuing to write poetry, I’ve self-published two books of poetry, I have poems in various anthologies, and I held writing workshops with young adults, sharing my own experiences when I was their age, and how writing poetry supported me and how it may be of benefit to them (Thank you, Elizabeth!). I’m constantly amazed at how we, as humans, find ways to express ourselves that touches core being. Words can be very powerful in the way they are presented, such as a poem, the way words can evoke thoughts and feelings. To me, poetry is the language of the Soul.
A few years ago, I came upon a word in Sanskrit: Kavyakantha. I loved how it sounded and felt connected to this word, and then I found out what it meant: “the one with poetry in his throat!” I was blown away. This was my symbol for being a poet, so much so that I had the phrase, in Sanskrit, indelibly marked on my arm:
In the years of journeying through the protocols of SMGI®, I was able to release a lot of clutter and connect to fragments of myself that kept me in a foggy state, where my focus wasn’t always available. Writing poetry touched upon some of the trauma I held within, and was able to let go of some of it. However, it wasn’t a completed action. In some ways, it was like visiting my “inner child,” connecting with him, seeing that he wanted and needed my attention, and—I left him where he was. No rescue. No integration. He kept trying to get my attention, until I was able to reconnect with that part of me, rescue him, and integrate him back to my Soul. This, and many other SMGI® journeys altered the way I write poetry, for which I am grateful.
