That sense of rediscovery is always part of the Frost Place aura. Don Sheehan, first executive director of the program, died this past spring; and thus he has been on the minds of many of the people who knew him. He was a holy man, and he saw poetry as an essential element of holiness. But he also knew that immersion in such work could change lives, and not always in the wisest ways. He used to tell people to be careful when they left the Frost Place: not to make any sudden decisions about husbands or jobs, for instance. That sounds amusing, but in fact I know more than one person who left Franconia, went home, and immediately started divorce proceedings.
Myself, I did not decide to leave my family after spending a week away from them at the Frost Place. What I did decide to do was to resign from the editorial board of the Beloit Poetry Journal. As much as I care about the human beings involved in that endeavor, I cannot keep torturing myself with contemporary poetry. There are many wonderful things about the modern world, but someone else has to discover what they are. That's just not my vocation. Being a writer means being selfish. It's an ugly truth, but it's a truth. I am an old-fashioned writer and reader; I find my newness in the old. It's a dinosaur position, but oh well. Perhaps Don would have warned me against taking this sudden step, yet better a journal than a husband, wouldn't you say?
3 comments:
Yes, yes, yes, and again yes. In the first place, I have been looking at the Birtwistle website. Your husband has a keen eye for curious birds and odd interiors, images that amuse and cause one to pause and reflect upon nature and the human condition, as cultures create and then demolish themselves. His "Blue Station Wagon" is a stunning compliment to your own How The Crimes Happened, which I am just now beginning to read along with Tracing Paradise (and a number of your mentor Baron Wormser's essays and books). My daughter Kari once grabbed my camera at the Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal and photographed my wife Cheri and myself sans tetes. We laughed and laughed. She's done this other times as well, as your husband introduces the Thomas Birtwistle gallery with a sculpture of a decapitated dog and, subsequently, presents himself on his website. Very funny fellow. Second, my parting conversation with Barron beside the Frost barn focused on the photograph of Don Sheehan, whom you identify here as a "holy man." As he emphasized, compassion is definitely the gateway state of being to all intelligences; and, judging from your husband's history at Haverford College with it's Quaker origins,he, no doubt, shares this assessment as well as his affinity for essential elements like poetry. Third, your selfish truth is an affirmation of ego, of personal identity, which at least one member of our closing circle may have missed, when she noted a "tremendous lack of ego" at the Frost Place. Quite the contrary, egos were in abundance, but we were all sharing that third essential element, that "third thing," the precious poetry of many holy voices that are great within, and this made all the difference. Fourth, I recall receiving a gift once, when I departed a clerical staff position I'd held for a short time at Columbia University to travel and live for a time in London and Stratford, England. The gift was a tiny, leather-bound copy of William Shakespeare's The Tempest and the giver went on to become an art student at The Rhode Island School of Design. She hoped my trip would be a good one and added, in parenthesis, following her signature, "I have enjoyed making your acquaintance very much." I want to say the same thing to you and,unbekannterweise, to your husband, thanks to the recent Conference on Poetry and Teaching at The Frost Place and also through these magical and these marvelous 21rst Century means to stay connected.
I think what you're saying here about ego is very true, and important. It is vital to maintain ourselves, "our-selfishness": we must believe that personal commitments and vocations matter. But compassion and civility among those egos--that's what happened this week at the conference. And I appreciate your words about Tom's photographs. Actually we both went to Haverford and then he transferred to Rhode Island School of Design, which you also mention in your note. Odd how these connections abound. Do keep in touch.
:) Just stopping by blogs on a stormy evening. Congrats on being asked to do the Milton seminar for next year - I may have to crash it. Frost Place was such an incredible experience last summer, so I feel like less of a dork to hear that others have found it life-changing in unexpected ways. Weird as it may sound, congratulations on letting go of Beloit - if it freed you up, so much the better. I've been thinking of you and Baron and Ruth and the rest of the 2009 gang lately.
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