Dear Readers,
Are you overthinkers? My yoga instructor has been trying to get us to relax and empty our mind, but it’s tough not to think. The mind is habitual of running. I’ve also been experiencing foggy memory for a while, but the more deep impressions buried in the recesses of the mind are hard to erase. I wish I could be more still and quiet. I’m trying but on days when I fail miserably and land up talking too much, the discomfort of it all doesn’t leave me before long. But I really hope I can get there later, if not sooner.
Last week, I wrote to you about participating in Poetic Adventures by Namratha Varadharajan. This week, too, she’s come up with the idea of Braiding a Poem. Her own attempt at it is magnificent and you must read it on her Substack Page here.
I too have tried my hand at braiding a poem. In simple words, I’ve tried to put together three aspects of life that are very different, but tie up in the end. It’s a feeble attempt, I’d say, but it was fun and did some good for my grey cells.
To understand Braiding a Poem better and to read more examples, you may click here.
For now, let’s head over to my poem.
A Course in Fancy Words
We start with twenty-five seconds of stillness in yoga class
because my mind needs the shunya
because I forget to wear my filters in WhatsApp groups
and use a scalpel to rip my cortex later,
because keys and files and cards and people
fly off my radar like they never were.
But just when I’m told not to focus on my breath, it rebels,
atoms of air run down my lungs, the muscles start to fizzle and zing.
Rebellion is not always a Brave New World, it has its own dark alleys.
My friend, a soldier’s wife, blotched in red, loses race against time.
The distance from hospitals in war-zones is scaffolded by mutinous rattling
about (her) Karma-tic collateral damages–a word
I learnt in a history class about WW II. Words bring back everything,
places-flowers-scents-pain-life-friends-teachers. My teacher
who lived with her alcoholic husband and two children called this word
a fancy substitute for borders nobody wants to cross, her face crumpled
when she said that. She is a dreamlike city in the disoriented topography
of my mind, like other burnt bridges stitched together in fragments,
ready to collapse with the keys and the files and the cards.
I do as instructed. I must turn my mind upside down but gravitational forces
stay where they are.
My friend bleeds, it’s a fancy word—
shunya—a chimera.
************
*shunya- zero
Thank you for reading!
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What a lovely fulsome poem. I’ll have to check out this form.
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I think the closest I have come to meditation is when I play tennis or in the process of writing a poem.. It is a sort of unconscious meditation on a single thing!
I love how you have braided different stories together, the effect of which was a sort on disquietening (as opposed to shunya). The best thing I liked in your poem is how one story slips quietly into another.. which leads to the next and so on.
Lovely writing, Sonia.
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Thank you, Namratha. You’ve been inspiring me. For me, too, being immersed in my work is meditation. I’m not usually able to focus when I meditate in class.
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An excellent poem, Sonia. I’m going to keep coming back to this one
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Thank you, Pavittra!
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Beautiful poem. I take yoga too and meditate. I know what you mean about how hard it is to quiet our minds.
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Thanks Natalie. Appreciate your stopping by.
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It’s a wonderful composition. I tried, but couldn’t understand the concept of a ‘braided’ poem. Maybe I’ll read more about it. Thank you.
I used to be an overthinker. Although my mind is always buzzing with thoughts, I try not to worry too much about things I can’t control.
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Thank you, Tarang. I haven’t done the best job possible with it, but reading Namratha’s post will give you a clear idea of how to braid a poem.
It’s wonderful you’re on that path. I’m trying too, a hard battle this one.
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I’ve been experimenting with meditation too and am thinking maybe it isn’t for me… but I suppose it is a long road!
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It is, I’m sure. As are most things. For me, I’m most likely to have an empty mind when I’m deeply immersed in my work. I don’t think many thoughts then. Akin to meditation? The real one is hard to come by, to have nothing to do and yet have no thoughts. Did the braiding attempt work. I wasn’t focussed enough and couldn’t say what I really wanted to, but I put it out anyway.
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Yes, I’ve been told by practitioners that the way I focus when I write is like meditation. So we are already there. I liked your poem…I’m new to the idea too… don’t know how exactly it is supposed to work… your poem worked as a whole…let me give it a shot sometime.
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I will keenly wait for your poem. Always something to learn there.
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This poem reads like my mind when I’m trying to go to sleep. I’ve never been able to meditate. I have no idea how to empty my mind–and having someone ordering/encouraging me to do it doesn’t work.
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It’s tough. If I don’t go for a long evening walk, my mind is in overdrive when I get to bed.
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I’m not familiar with Braiding poetry, but this was a perfect example of how effective that technique can be. I was there with you cross-legged, seeking the moment with each breath and posture–along came those pesky thoughts. They cycled in and out. My breath cycled in and out. Before I knew it, the hour fled and I was back on the street where To Do Lists rule my world. Insert Huge Sigh. I’ll return, of course, and the chimera will be there…waiting.
https://cleemckenziebooks.substack.com
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Thanks for reading, Lee.
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