Articulate

I accomplished a small personal feat last night.  I attended the launch of Open Heart Farming, an annual poetry journal that features fabulous poets from across Nova Scotia celebrating farming and food.  It is a spin-off of Open Heart Forgery and has proven to be quite successful.  The launch was at the Spring Garden Library and it coincided with the launch of the July issue of Open Heart Forgery (my poem ‘Hello, stars.’ is included).    

I made my way from my workplace to downtown Halifax in the almost unbearable heat.  I crossed from Dartmouth to Halifax on the ferry in search of a cool breeze but all I got was a sunburned nose.  I ducked into The Foggy Goggle for a bite of dinner and enjoyed their air-conditioning before trekking up to grab some Second Cup coffee that might maybe add a bit of pep to my step.  It partially worked but when I found myself in the program room at the library with a room full of poets and poetry lovers, that’s really what lightened my gait.  I love being among these people; creative, tender souls who possess an amazing command of words and their own hearts. 

The majority of the evening was devoted to the farming journal with a small chuck of time set aside at the end of the evening for those of us Open Heart Forgers who wanted to celebrate the release of the July issue.  I looked around the room, fifty-six people all tolled and thought to myself, ‘There are too many people here!  I’ll never be able to stand in front of them and read.  Maybe there won’t be time for me.’  However, after listening to all of those people read their poems and share their stories, I agreed quietly with host Mary Ellen Sullivan when she said that those who get up to read are brave.  I reminded myself that the whole point of getting up to read WAS bravery, it took courage and it was something I need to continue to be, brave, courageous and buoyant about my work.  So, when my name was called I marched right up to the front of the room, up onto the little stage, stood in front of the podium and spoke into the microphone (A MICROPHONE! Jeeeeebles!), made a warm joke and read two poems – ‘The Company We Keep’ and ‘Unfinished Woman’.  Didn’t even break a sweat, stumble or falter.  I handled it like a pro and when I sat back down and the full gravity of what I had just accomplished made me feel ten feel tall and worth ten million dollars.  Public speaking is still an ongoing battle for me because of my stage fright.  I am in no way a spotlight kind of person but it feels natural and beautiful to stand up in front of others and share a poem, something you have thrown your whole gut into and have them respond.  As we were all saying our goodbyes and slowly filtering out of the program room, fully enriched with creative energy, I received some wonderful feedback and kind words.  A complete stranger told me I was one of the loveliest humanists she’s ever met.  Perhaps one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.  She said for her, my poems have a deep human thread in them as well as a profound feminine power.  I can’t think of a better compliment.  It is a rare occasion where I can discuss the genesis of a poem or about writing in general aloud and have someone listen so intently.  That may be the best of all.

So yes, yours truly accomplished a small personal feat last night.  I stood up in front of the largest group I’ve read in front of to date, fortuitous, confident and passionate.  I presented myself to an attentive audience; I made eye contact (which means I looked at something other than my paper which is huge for me) I was relaxed, content and enjoying my own words.  I was nervous that with the aid of a microphone I might be too loud or talk too low but once I got in the groove I felt I was speaking at a decent volume and because I hadn’t read either poem aloud before I was mindful of intonation and pronunciation.  Those are always the areas I’m most afraid of but I done good!  Small step for me, one giant leap for mankind, yeah?  What a great night.  So pleased I forced myself to go when it was hotter than Hades here.  A creative growth spurt?  I think so.  Yay me!  Small miracles exist.

In propinquity,

Nic