If you don't mind me saying so - that really is a fucking burden.
Every time I read one of these poems you write about God - which are really about how the idea God was hammered into you, pressed into you like a branding iron when your mind and heart were still so young and new and not yet set - every time I read one I think: beautifully written, Rebecca but
what
a
fucking
burden
to
carry.
So when you subtitle this one as "a poem of letting go" I find myself saying "Yes! Yes! Let go of it!" - but I do know that it's not so simple.
However you also write "even though now I consider myself mostly an atheist, I cannot separate out the God, from the Me"
So... my (possibly simplistic) thought is this:
Don't try.
All you will do is disassemble yourself and cause yourself more pain, unnecessarily. They made God a part of you when you were too young to have a say in that and this is who you are - with all your wild creativity and love and sometimes anger and everything else a good human has.
As you know, I am NOT myself a believer in God - at least not in any way the Churches speak of God, but I do know that I am surrounded by - and inextricably a part of - something infinitely greater than myself, as are you, as are we all.
Self awareness, consciousness, creativity - Poetry included - are essential elements of that greater thing - a divine mystery if you like. They are the God inside you - not the neurotic, guilt inducing, fear generating caricatures that you were taught.
Self awareness, consciousness, creativity - Poetry included - though not always easy, are not a burden. They are a gift, a light- something that help us fly.
Please forgive my intrusion. I fear it reads like a lecture. I know that I don't really know what it is like to be you. But I do know you have divinity within you, and it need not be a burden.
Dave, I smiled as I read your comment. First of all, this poem is from at least ten years ago. And I find it to be my very best work, even now. I guess I don't see it from where you are. I do think this is a letting go....hum. Perhaps I should better consider audience here. For me, I can't help but smile when I read this because it is so fucking COOL--the way it washes down the page. However, and I am so glad you've pointed this out, I may be missing my own point here. Maybe others will not see the joy, only the sorrow and pain and agony that, yes, is a part of it, maybe more than I realized.
I hope that the beauty of this thing is not crowded out by the...what seems to you at least...implicit pain. It is hard for me to remember that many, many people did not grow up in the church! I am always a little bit shocked, can't help myself.
Anyhow, I have given up trying to extract God from myself, from my work. Instead, I am mining for those pathways of gold!! (hehehehhehehe)
And on another note--my religious background, the lore and narrative of it, is a literal treasure trove of wonder. I can't say that I'm glad that I was indoctorated, but I am glad to know what I know, to carry the smells of churches inside my head, the feel of bibles and hymnals, the grape juice and the wine, the wafers and the saltines and the Christmases, that are forever ruined for me now.
I often think that I should begin to work actively to change the church. I became a lay minister about six years ago and I preached a handful of times. It seemed so clear to me then what needs to happen--real change. If that change doesn't come, the church as it is will die. It is on the decline as it is.
I did read the poem as a scream of pain, and feel glad I have never had to go through that.
Where I grew up, a minority of children and adults went to Church at all, of any kind, and only a much smaller minority had any active religious beliefs. The local Church of England Minister gave up on attending my little Primary school to deliver the scheduled Scripture lesson once a fortnight, because he found the audience unreceptive - to say the least. He was "The Reverend Fowl" - that being his surname - but we was therefore known around the town as "Friar Chook" - Chook being Australian vernacular for a Chicken.
My best friend at school was a reasonably devout Seventh Day Adventist, but they were rare birds indeed in our town. We got along really well, and just agreed to differ on religion - though these days he is now a very definite Atheist.
So.... I can't claim detailed knowledge.
Anyway - keep on mining! And Apoaogies for misunderstanding, my friend.
Oh, also, this makes me think about my contemplation this morning about how the suffering and difficulties in my life give me so much more good writing material, than the good easy times, haha.
I love the repetition and energy of this, and the use of punctuation! It feels to me like you are claiming something for yourself, not negating but changing the shape and claiming the power. I hope that makes sense, lol. As always I love your words, your voice 💕
Yes I did enjoy reading the exchange between you and David and seeing the different perspectives. But, I guess that’s how it is with writing… each person gets what they get from it regardless of what we might intend or how the experience was for us.
Very true, but I am still often amazed by how somehow can get something totally different from I see. It's like this--I see faces everywhere. I just cannot understand my everyone doesn't see faces, too!
Oh Fuck, Rebecca.
If you don't mind me saying so - that really is a fucking burden.
Every time I read one of these poems you write about God - which are really about how the idea God was hammered into you, pressed into you like a branding iron when your mind and heart were still so young and new and not yet set - every time I read one I think: beautifully written, Rebecca but
what
a
fucking
burden
to
carry.
So when you subtitle this one as "a poem of letting go" I find myself saying "Yes! Yes! Let go of it!" - but I do know that it's not so simple.
However you also write "even though now I consider myself mostly an atheist, I cannot separate out the God, from the Me"
So... my (possibly simplistic) thought is this:
Don't try.
All you will do is disassemble yourself and cause yourself more pain, unnecessarily. They made God a part of you when you were too young to have a say in that and this is who you are - with all your wild creativity and love and sometimes anger and everything else a good human has.
As you know, I am NOT myself a believer in God - at least not in any way the Churches speak of God, but I do know that I am surrounded by - and inextricably a part of - something infinitely greater than myself, as are you, as are we all.
Self awareness, consciousness, creativity - Poetry included - are essential elements of that greater thing - a divine mystery if you like. They are the God inside you - not the neurotic, guilt inducing, fear generating caricatures that you were taught.
Self awareness, consciousness, creativity - Poetry included - though not always easy, are not a burden. They are a gift, a light- something that help us fly.
Please forgive my intrusion. I fear it reads like a lecture. I know that I don't really know what it is like to be you. But I do know you have divinity within you, and it need not be a burden.
Very best Wishes - Dave
Dave, I smiled as I read your comment. First of all, this poem is from at least ten years ago. And I find it to be my very best work, even now. I guess I don't see it from where you are. I do think this is a letting go....hum. Perhaps I should better consider audience here. For me, I can't help but smile when I read this because it is so fucking COOL--the way it washes down the page. However, and I am so glad you've pointed this out, I may be missing my own point here. Maybe others will not see the joy, only the sorrow and pain and agony that, yes, is a part of it, maybe more than I realized.
I hope that the beauty of this thing is not crowded out by the...what seems to you at least...implicit pain. It is hard for me to remember that many, many people did not grow up in the church! I am always a little bit shocked, can't help myself.
Anyhow, I have given up trying to extract God from myself, from my work. Instead, I am mining for those pathways of gold!! (hehehehhehehe)
And on another note--my religious background, the lore and narrative of it, is a literal treasure trove of wonder. I can't say that I'm glad that I was indoctorated, but I am glad to know what I know, to carry the smells of churches inside my head, the feel of bibles and hymnals, the grape juice and the wine, the wafers and the saltines and the Christmases, that are forever ruined for me now.
I often think that I should begin to work actively to change the church. I became a lay minister about six years ago and I preached a handful of times. It seemed so clear to me then what needs to happen--real change. If that change doesn't come, the church as it is will die. It is on the decline as it is.
Ah!
Well, that's good to hear, mate.
I did read the poem as a scream of pain, and feel glad I have never had to go through that.
Where I grew up, a minority of children and adults went to Church at all, of any kind, and only a much smaller minority had any active religious beliefs. The local Church of England Minister gave up on attending my little Primary school to deliver the scheduled Scripture lesson once a fortnight, because he found the audience unreceptive - to say the least. He was "The Reverend Fowl" - that being his surname - but we was therefore known around the town as "Friar Chook" - Chook being Australian vernacular for a Chicken.
My best friend at school was a reasonably devout Seventh Day Adventist, but they were rare birds indeed in our town. We got along really well, and just agreed to differ on religion - though these days he is now a very definite Atheist.
So.... I can't claim detailed knowledge.
Anyway - keep on mining! And Apoaogies for misunderstanding, my friend.
Best Wishes - Dave :)
I love how you've written this, Rebecca...the poem feels like its voice keeps rising and reaches a crescendo in the final stanza...
Thanks, Rajani.
Oh, also, this makes me think about my contemplation this morning about how the suffering and difficulties in my life give me so much more good writing material, than the good easy times, haha.
I love the repetition and energy of this, and the use of punctuation! It feels to me like you are claiming something for yourself, not negating but changing the shape and claiming the power. I hope that makes sense, lol. As always I love your words, your voice 💕
Thanks, Kristi. I love this piece myself, but I am seeing that not everyone will see this as a joyous thing.
Yes I did enjoy reading the exchange between you and David and seeing the different perspectives. But, I guess that’s how it is with writing… each person gets what they get from it regardless of what we might intend or how the experience was for us.
Very true, but I am still often amazed by how somehow can get something totally different from I see. It's like this--I see faces everywhere. I just cannot understand my everyone doesn't see faces, too!
Yes I totally get it, lol!