Liminal guesswork

Poems I don't remember writing

Recently, I woke up, and my notes app had some lines that looked like poems on it.

I don’t fully remember writing them.

Well, I do have a vague memory of waking up and needing to transcribe something, falling asleep again, and waking up again with another need to transcribe. Perhaps it was in the liminal space between laying down and falling asleep. Perhaps it was in the liminal space of deep winter.

And of course, it’s dark and timeless and there is my phone at arm’s length for transcribing the word-songs (and spoiling it the timelessness by revealing the clock numbers, I suppose).

Oh, our beloved bedside recording devices, for those times we mysteriously need them..

Now that I really think about it, I remember having to transcribe these backwards while knowing the words here aren’t 100% accurate. It’s like trying to grasp water vapor from the air and form it into a visible droplet, or catch a glimmering fish with your bare hand.

The below are an adorable attempt at translating the sleep poems. I don’t fully know why I am sharing them with you, but the liminal guesswork has me smiling from ear to ear like when I look at something my kid made, so maybe look at them that way.

Entry no. 1
the bending
of mind, of love
at arm’s length
is the creation of
a trellis
for which the seed grows
to protect from the sun
its fragile supports

Entry no. 2
bring forth
any amount of silver
from the hearth
shine it forward
in stranded space
a mirror
a hope
a signal
for being

Entry no. 3
tread the way
of the early light
soft and calling
as the invisible hand
folds you forward
breath like a flock
the one in the many
the many in one

Entry no. 4
letting winter sew
a seam for joining
light and dark together
where four petals glow warm
and the mosaic speaks
in a burning desire
to hammer oneself in permanence
for only one world to know

Entry no. 5
forgetting
the power
of tending
to light striking
the very disc
that remains unsolved
fledgling armor
against the ruthless
self

◯

These poems remind me of a personal project I did maybe 15 years ago. I was in college, I think. I bought a vintage illustrated book of wildflowers, and what I did was just… start writing words.

This is a beautiful exercise in unfiltered, intuitive, creative discovery and getting out of the way of the conceptual mind.

It can be kind of weird.

I would highly recommend it.

On each page I always started with the first word that came, no questioning, and then let the next word come in the same way, without thinking about it, just letting the words write themselves.

I remember feeling this vibratory tension as the mind wants to take over and make it something else. I may not have all the way succeeded in preventing that from happening. But I gave it my best.

Since it was in marker though, there was no editing. I cherish this book still. I forgot about it until now. Below are some scans. Also adorable, if I may.

Try it.

What if we all did a creative exercise like this more on purpose?

1. Sit down softly and breathe for a few moments

2. then just start with one word, moving to the next.

3. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense or contains a message.

4. It’s more like listening than saying.

This is your invitation to step into new forms of shameless self expression, I hope, I hope, I hope you will because the world needs the beams of your voice. As tender as it is. I’m throwing my full tenderness into a full fire lately and letting it speak. Yeah, it’s vulnerable, and vulnerable is what we are designed to be.

Be that soft,

♡

Kristen