Elul Day 4

Dear Elul Writers,

Each Elul I turn to poetry, and each Elul I contend with a fear that, for some, poetry feels like foreign terrain. What if these short, little lines prove too steep? What if readers can’t quite get their footing, stumbling on metaphors, losing their traction in the loose dirt of the figurative. And, yet, poetry’s power is derived, in no small part, from its precariousness. The unsteadiness we feel causes us to hang on to the words a little more tightly, to tread across lines a touch more carefully. As on a difficult hike, the attention that we pay to each step can allow us to feel surprised and moved when we turn a corner or come to a clearing and happen upon something spectacular.

It is this feeling of wonder, of deep resonance and connection that I felt  when I read Stanley Kunitz’s The Layers this past year. It is a poem that is about the act of looking back, of turning and cherishing our path, and, eventually, of recognizing the sacred uncertainty of where we are headed.

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
“Live in the layers,
not on the litter.”
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.

Prompt

In these early days of Elul, as we embark on the work of turning and seeing the path that we have forged through the past year, our kavanah/intention should be to focus more on the layers than the litter. It would be easy enough to get caught up in the work of collecting that which has been strewn about in the tumult of the year–instead, let us consider our layers. What strata do you hope to unearth in the month ahead? What litter can you leave behind? What stones along your path can be recast, not as obstacles, but instead as items that are precious and worthy of your time? Though we may lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in our book of transformations is already written. We are not done with our changes.

Take care,

Jordan