Last year on Workers' Day weekend, our family went to the beach. The house there lost electricity one day, so we had some memorably uncomfortable evening time without fans or light, trying to get our kids to settle and sleep. But we eventually took a break in this struggle and went out as a family down to the beach and looked up at a beautiful night sky full of stars. Rebekah pointed out the Milky Way galaxy to our kids.
That weekend I also had the thought that, as a personal challenge or discipline, I would try to write a haiku at the end of each day for a month. The idea was to be more intentional in observing, more aware of senses and ordinary things, more descriptive and maybe less judgmental. I made it through the month, but Rebekah gave me a tiny blue notebook for these tiny poems, so I kept going. A year later, we were out at the same house by the beach for Workers' Day weekend (we were glad the electric stayed on this time). I can't say I have a full 365 haiku, but maybe 2/3 of that. What have I learned?
I've learned that the 5-7-5 syllable structure is a great starter prompt. Sometimes I need a little structure. I really admire Ernesto Cardenal's philosophy of simple, free verse people's poetry, so I try to keep that in mind, too. I like the challenge of keeping it short, using everyday vocabulary, trying to isolate a single moment.
I think it was a line in John Green's The Anthropocene Reviewed: "Pay attention to what you pay attention to." As I sit down at the end of the day in the living room rocking chair, the things that come to mind are usually related to family and our shared experiences, unique moments of life here in Managua, or something in nature. The exercise has pushed me to appreciate what I value but fail to notice. It is probably an exercise in gratitude, although I haven't usually thought about it in that way.
Not all the moments that I write about are the good moments, though. Sometimes there is something that grabs my attention that is a really hard reality. I don't know what to do with so much suffering that happens near us and all around the world. Naming it, writing it can be one thing.
I have already shared some blog posts of these micropoems during 2021, so here is another sample from these more recent months.
Jan 1
with sounds of fire crackers
and car alarms, too
