"the desert is home / to those who catch its cadence / in the rhythm of the year"

[larryhammer]

From July '09 to July '10, I wrote a poem a day.

    Saguaros bloom out
with their white trumpets blaring
    bright from every arm,
like the last guests to arrive
ready to party all night.

Specifically, a nature poem a day. This meant I had to be Always Observing for a year -- walking around with my senses alert, watching, listening, feeling. Cataloging not just the world around me but my own reactions to it all. And then, of course, describing it using the right words in the right patterns. I knew what it meant going in -- I started the project in part by way of forcing myself to focus outside myself. This wasn't the only reason, of course -- like most art there was also a large component of I Had To, with a side of It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time.

    A paint-drop of flowers:
whites, yellows, shading to gold,
    lavenders, purples,
violets of deepening shades
spilled down the bajada slope.

By the end of the year, I was pretty burned out. At the time, I thought it was mostly the effort of writing that damn daily poem for one month too many. In theory, I have been revising the cycle ever since. In reality, there were a few months I couldn't look at the dratted thing, not even to finish entering comments from first readers. Earlier this spring, I returned to the draft in earnest: polishing, revising, rearranging, testing last year's experience against this year, discarding the duplicates and inconsequential and plain botched jobs.

    In the setting west
before the first tinge of dawn,
    a full yellow moon
stares back at me wide-eyed
like it's been awake all night.

A couple weeks ago, I went on a hike for replacement material -- in this case, something I'd forgotten to write about as opposed to had written badly. After fifteen minutes on the trail, I stopped walking because I realized was ... just walking, not observing. I needed to return to Always Observing. And after a few false starts, I did -- and it turned out to be much easier than it had been for a while. Since, well, about the time I started burning out.

Which is when I realized that Always Observing takes work. Yeah, I know -- sometimes I'm slow to catch on. Always Observing means disengaging perception filters that are there for a reason, so you can focus on whatever else is actually important to the moment. The Romantic idea of a poet as uniquely sensitive is of course bosh, even aside from how it discounts the craft side of things, but it's not complete bosh. But more, now I'm wondering if my burnout was as much the wear of Always Observing as the damn daily poem grind.

    Up the canyon trail
swallows chitter overhead,
    a wren's notes descend,
and a raven's raucous caw
echoes the rock arena.

But yanno? It felt good to be back in that mode. Or rather, it felt good to be back.

Which is good, as coming up I've got a couple weeks of what had been a vacation to fill. It's going to be fun finding out what will happen.

    Under a blue sky
where paired falcons pirouette,
    two coyotes trot
silently along the trail
into the rising spring day.

---L.

Comments

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

Totally makes sense. I think any kind of mode, if you have to keep at it exclusively, is going to cause burnout.

[larryhammer]

So not so much Too Much Information as Not Enough Variation? Hmm -- possibly.

---L.

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

Well, assuming that variation refreshes us. I think it does, but Mileage May Vary.

[larryhammer]

Variation certainly refreshes me. I'm constantly jumping around.

---L.

[jennifergale.livejournal.com]

But more, now I'm wondering if my burnout was as much the wear of Always Observing as the damn daily poem grind.

This makes absolute sense to me.

I love that first poem, btw. :)

[larryhammer]

So it works out of context? Coo. (The context being that the saguaro are the last spring flowers -- and a signal of early summer.)

---L.

[swan-tower.livejournal.com]

Oh, absolutely. Our brains are deliberately set up to filter stuff out; the world is too much information, and we need to be able to pay attention to the important things, like predators and food sources and people who might let us have sex with them. :-) Walking around Always Observing is like walking around with every muscle active -- of course it's exhausting.