Month: August 2020

Last week, poet Carol V. so loved the Bach invention poem I found that she used a stanza of it for a golden shovel. That seemed as good a reason as any to revisit the golden shovel form from 2017 for this month’s hindsight challenge, and remember the particular challenges of that form. Our task this month is to either revise a poem, or write a poem in concert with a poem we’ve written before, and after these last couple of weeks, I think a golden shovel will serve nicely as a complimentary complex and chaotic form (for me – YMMV). Through a crippling heatwave, massive thunderstorms, multiple lightning-sparked wildfires, days of gray skies and breath-stealing smoke, rolling power blackouts, more humidity than I am generally prepared to deal with, AND A COMPLICATED NOVEL REVISION, August has been A Month, and I certainly need more words than mine to describe it.

And yet it’s somewhat startling to discover that it’s nearly September. I’m definitely over August, but September seems… a guest come too soon. Schools are open, faculty are stumbling into the new normal, and somewhere, some eejit is muttering already about Ugg boots pumpkin spice. And yet, it feels like this wild summer cannot possibly be finished with us yet. Too much has happened. Too many continued conflagrations spark from all corners of the world. What next? Who knows. There’s no way to engage our much valued foresight – and in 2020, our hindsight is wholly broken.

I saved this image from the graphic design journal, Print (which folded in 2017) years ago. Like the 17th century English proverb, “Enough is as good as a feast,” this particular quote has inspired me for a long time. Regardless of the David Pearson’s flowing graphic design, and his quirky title – “Fortune Cookie,” the words themselves are simple and a bit stark. The most we can do is our best. There’s literally nothing else – at all – that we can do. And while so many struggle against the changes this virus has wrought in the world, reeling from continued disappointments and discomfort, giving in to depression, the truth remains: the most we can do is our best, and not a single thing more. If you’re doing your best? Take a breath. You’ve done what you can. You’re doing all right.

The science writer for The Atlantic, Ed Yong was on NPR’s Code Switch this week, and said something else which resonated and informed my golden shovel thoughts. He said, “Throughout much of the year, people have asked themselves, how can we get back to normal? And I think radial introspection begins with understanding that ‘normal’ wasn’t so great for everyone.” Beneath the strictures of a suddenly shifted society, where the change is impersonal – and permanent – there is room only for acquiescence and acceptance. It is what it is – and the most we can do is our best to take what was and sift from it what should never have been and make what we have better than what went before. Tall order, that. But can we do anything else? Do we have any other choice?

Roll call for the poetry peeps! Many of our student and educator friends are treading pretty deep waters this month with the reprise of digital/distance learning, and haven’t quite made it back to poetry yet – we salute them and we’ll see them next month. Meanwhile, writing to our challenge this month is Laura’s, whose poem is here, and Michelle, whose leap into foresight is here. Carol is revisiting a firefly poem here. A very busy Sara alighted briefly here, while Tricia is here. Stay tuned for other poets checking in.

Graciously hosting Poetry Friday at My Juicy Little Universe, Heidi is remembering the other September when so much changed we thought we would never find “normal” again.

If you could have anything in the World that you wanted to put there, what would you add? I know what I’d want – you. We need you in this strange new reality in which we find ourselves. Rest up this weekend – we’ve all got a lot to do to remake a more just society. Just don’t forget – only try to carry what fits into your arms. Take a breath – and you may find the first step is easier.