Go and Save the Poet*



I don’t come to see you to become rich and famous, I am not here to fall in love. I pursue every opportunity presented to me to be in your presence to allow myself to experience a humanity of people in purpose; very much alive, very much in tune.

Every time I enter the room with your presence, it is a celebration, a matrimonial festivity. Every time something new is about to appear.

Life is not easier or happier because I ‘ve met you. I still have my good days and my bad days. Yet, even after months of silence, after years of not seeing you, with something I heard you said or a response I get from you, I feel the same.

Whenever everyone says one thing, you say the same thing with a small, tiny, purposely and wholeheartedly given detail, a distinctive humble adjective, a comma, a simple phrase like no other. Very ordinarily extraordinary. And in that way you bring things to a higher notch.

It’s a narrow distance, a small differentiation, so that’s all it takes to be from another understanding and level of being. A small notch.

When I was really young, returning to home land after my postgraduate studies abroad, I intentionally didn’t apply for jobs in certain offices. I could not see myself in them, I didn’t feel I belong in the same profession. So I made a choice to avoid certain areas of work to protect myself from being like those people. But it didn’t work. I found out years after that I cannot protect myself from any low levels of professional attitude, of established patterns of professional behaviour that made me frown from the beginning.

Upon realizing this, I started craving for my Poet. All the things that I have always felt dear in my heart, even though I do not possess the articulation, the grace, the craft of an artist of any form to bring them to life with a medium that will create for others the same quality of emotions that disrupt and bring alive my inner being.

Nevertheless I know. I know that you help, that you assist me to establish a way of going back, save and honour my Poet, the one that I ‘ve missed, that I haven’t seen or heard or felt for decades.

We do so much, we study so much, we educate ourselves, we work hard, we train, we socialize, we commit in good faith, we are constantly on the go for everything, to serve everything. But the Poet is not the priority. It is like we came home holding our shopping bags and we laid them out there on the floor to put them in the fridge, in the cabinets, in their storage, with order and purpose. We could be as organized and thoughtful as we want, and we will probably enjoy the benefits of a very well structured week where our household runs on consistency that allows us a steady living and a good surviving mode. But it does not lead to a life. It is a blindfolded walk with a helper that will not take the cloth out. So what is the point?

We strive in so many disciplines in life, to be better, to do more, to be more eager to try more, to achieve more, to be good and decent and lovely, but we do not prioritize the Poet.

The Poet is why the rest of it is in a physical form. All here is to serve the Poet. The one that speaks about what matters, how it matters, when it matters and how to enjoy everything in between the intention and the outcome.

You help me save my Poet, all that matters, all that I am here for.

Thank you dearest.

* a letter to my teacher