Wild Hares #4: A Time to Become, A Time to Simply Be

Alas, my wild hare was feeling shy and wouldn’t show up. It’s the thing about wild creatures of prey — sometimes they’re shy. I call her, Dasher, a gift from a Google search. Sadly, I don’t know who drew her. She’s a long eared, shaggy hare, who is wildly curious… This article is another I my series of watching with no fair bit of amazement at what I’m getting up to now!

A goodly portion of my life has been spent ‘becoming’ a Poet. I have been diligent about putting my observations, feelings, and thoughts about this planet and its creatures into prose and poetry. Exactly when that shift from becoming a poet to being one occurred, I’m not certain. Clearly something about truly owning that title had a lot to do with my recent travels across this country. At the outset of the trip, I dubbed myself an ‘Investigative Poet.’ That was a recognition of the kind of poetry I write. This was bigger, as personal as it gets. This was Ann, claiming her soul’s Journey. Perhaps it was the death of a beloved cousin, only nine years older than I, that helped me understand there is no time to waste “becoming.” These poems are no longer going to be an accidental sideline of a trip. These poems will emerge intentionally from the awe-inspiring beauty of this land and its inhabitants, born of a pilgrimage that was carefully and deliberately planned. Other poems have been patiently biding their time as well. I have no regrets that when the family called with news of Nancy’s death, that I organized and wrote her Memorial, planned my trip to see the relatives, and treasured honoring Nancy and enjoying my visit with the extended family.

Confident in my Poetry, clear about my goals, I applied for a grant to create more possibilities for poetry. I was emboldened to complete and submit the application, after carefully considering how my work aligned with the terms of the grant. Now, don’t be misled, I panicked a bit. But then, I thought why? A Poet is who I am. This is what I do. Whether or not I receive this grant is based on their decision-making metrics. It is a measure neither of my worth or my calling. 200+ people are applying for the same 30 spots. So, we’ll see. One way or another, my musical collaborator Andy and I will apply for other grants. I will write Poetry. He will make music. We will join our forces and talents. Life will be more meaningful, richer, and infinitely more fun.

In the meantime, I can take some time to write my poems from this trip and catch up on Life. It would be good to clean off the dining room table and settle in! To spend a few mornings running in the town Pool. Even to eat ice cream at the local establishments.

The Land I drove through encouraged me. It doesn’t ask for permission to inspire. It is what it is. It is so profoundly itself, that even humans’ greed and disdain for the Earth haven’t touched its Sacredness. So elemental is it, that this Land will continue to evolve as the Earth does — not as humans will it.

This deep recognition of my calling is a step farther into Poetry — in my case Investigative Poetry. It’s the difference between thinking of myself as a Poet and carrying that deep in my core. My cousin Nancy’s death, a cousin who was the same age as my sister Deb (who died 13 years ago), has awakened me to Time’s reality. The nine years between 74 and 83 are a lot of years in elder-speak, but then not really. I work in a hospital Trauma Bay. Every day patients come in with serious traumas and life-challenging conditions. I see people far younger than I with “elderly” conditions. I’m in pretty good shape. But trouble is a fall or an accident away. As Cat Steven sings, “I might Die tonight.” Chance of that is just a bit larger in my mind with Nancy’s death than it has been. If I’m going to take being a Poet seriously, I can’t dither.

It delights me that people like my poetry. But for me, right now, that’s not really the Point. I write because a quiet, but quite insistent voice within me fills my head with precious words to remind us of the Beauty of this Earth, its Land, Waters, and Starry Sky along with the Possibilities of Peace between all the Astonishing People who live here. If I don’t honor this now, when will I? If I don’t honor this now, who else will See with my eyes? Who else will Speak with my voice?

I am grateful for whatever Revelation had to happen to allow me to move past my sense of becoming a poet to a deep knowing – at my core – to simply being a Poet. I will honor this inner truth.

As I do, I remember the importance of you and your Gifts. Who are you? Who are you becoming? Who have you accepted to be and how are you honoring your Life’s role? We are all aging. Every day, we all have fewer days to speak the Truth that only we have been invited to witness. We all have Dreams and Callings to pursue. And Death is not, by far, the only reason to be who you are. It is Life’s Abundance which calls us into our Truth. If we’re willing to listen, we will respond.

So, let me turn to an astonishing Poet, Mary Oliver, as she asks us all: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I really want to know. Me? I’m an Investigative Poet, in the Service of Peace.