I have a confession...

I'm a poet, but

I also wrote a poem called ‘Poetry makes me puke’. You see, I was always a bit scared of the poetry I read at school, even though I went on to study English at university. I would feel inadequate when I didn’t understand it.  It’s funny then, that writing poetry has been my refuge. I think that poetry can actually be magical; that the magic of poetry is in how it makes you feel when you read or write it. 

Psychiatrist and parenting expert Dr. Dan Siegel suggests that a child has to feel three things in order to feel secure. They need to feel safe, seen and soothed. This is the ideal, but not the typical.

I think writing, and poetry in particular, is so important in helping us to feel safe, seen and soothed. 

When I was a child I had a diary. In that diary I made up a special code. It wasn’t earth shattering in its complexity, I just took the last letter of the first word and put it on the beginning of the second word. I also put the last letter of the last word in the sentence onto the beginning of the first word  So ‘Here we are’ would be written ‘Eher ew ear’. It was my way of keeping some sense of privacy. 

I think that poetry is my grown up version of code. It’s a way of putting the heartfelt at arms length so that it is not quite so intense or painful. The poem I write can then create a space for me to witness my own feelings, my own reality and that is very soothing.  By writing down what is going on for you on paper, you can read it back to yourself. Your feelings have a chance to be witnessed by yourself. In that witnessing comes some validation: YES! It is that painful or lonely or worrying… or fabulous, that can happen to!

How often do feelings get denied or minimised or justified? The paper that receives your words doesn’t do any of those things. Most importantly, it doesn’t judge. It just mirrors back to you what your reality is like for you; something that no one else is probably helping you to do quite exactly as you need it. 

It can also feel safe, because you can use metaphor or imagery to say what you want to say. Look at this poem for example… also, look at me, fancy pants, I’ve recorded it if you want a listen, just click below.

An iron bar sits on her chest.

It’s oh so cold to touch.

Oh so sure,

So secure.

It’s oh so cold to touch.

A gentle hand upon her.

A quiet loving hold.

Oh so sure,

So secure.

A sanctuary to clutch .

A rumble from deep within her soul.

An ancient message of old,

Oh so sure

So secure.

It once had felt too much.

Its rapid eagerness takes flight;

Whips out from her soul so bold.

Oh so sure

So secure:

‘I didn’t make it up’.

I can share something that is deeply personal about my history within this poem, but you probably have no idea what. Yet I imagine you can also relate to it - what would your iron bar be: a memory, a secret? Who does the gentle hand belong to? Is it your own or the paper or a friend or therapist?

Using imagery or metaphor is a way for us to share our story that feels true to us, but also safe.

With its meter and rhyme poetry can also feel like chanting. I think that chanting touches upon a rhythmical, deeper collective conscious within us all. Research into chanting has found that it can decrease stress, anxiety and depressive symptoms as it can slow breathing and activate the vagus nerve. You can make up your own entirely nonsensical chant that can make you feel good.  

Try reading this out loud:

Mm pacha knockti,

Flank hatha par ya,

Chip chuna floo so,

Kun Kun Kun.

Mm pacha knockti,

Hav neka hatha, 

Gran chukka dockti,

Kun Kun Kun.

Spi-glooooooria, spi-glooooooria

Mm pacha knockti, 

Kun Kun Kun.

Hakuuuuuuna, Hakuuuuuna,

Mm pacha knockti,

Kun Kun Kun.

I mean, it’s utterly made up words, but does it evoke some feelings in you? Does it make you want to stomp around the room? It does me! The words don’t even have to make sense, but we can still take meaning from it. 

That chant was created when I did a course at The Poetry School. Although all the words were made up, my tutor informed me that ‘Kun’ is an arabic word for the act of manifesting, existing or being and in the Qur'an, Allah commands the universe to "be" ("kun!"). That’s pretty cool, maybe I was tapping into some collective wisdom through that chant. The magic of poetry!

My poems have been my companions. Like I say in my book, when I’m feeling fearful, I have a choice. I can either believe it, feed it, watch it grow ears and fangs and viciousness, or I can look it right in the eye and sing it a song. That is what my poems do.

I like what poet and theologian Pádraig Ó Tuama says, that trauma tells us ‘You are alone’; to which poetry declares, ‘Yes! I know! I am!’.  There is something beautiful and reassuring about poetry because it can unapologetically reflect our human experience in all its gore and wonder. When poetry echoes back ‘Yes you are alone’, we no longer feel so alone, because we feel seen.

Part of the human condition is to be alone, to feel alone. It is only through truly getting familiar with this sense of isolation that we can realise that we belong, because we all experience it. That is the commonality amongst us all. Poetry can help us to get familiar with our aloneness, you see:

The secret to belonging 

is to let your longing be.

Don’t banish it far out of reach,

exiled far from grace;

beat the rhythm of its heart,

trace the contour of its face.

For the secret to belonging,

is to let your longing be.

Writing poetry isn’t about the outcome - gosh, if it was I would have given up long ago! This is about the creative process of saying, through your own words, ‘I am, I am, I am.’

That’s why I have created ‘Feelings School’ for paid subscribers on Substack. With each week I’ll introduce a feeling to explore, with a bit of psychological insight and writing prompts to help you get familiar with that feeling. It’ll be a space where you can connect back to the humanness of you and become more emotionally attuned as we explore how to identify and process each feeling.

If you like the idea of creating your own chant then join me on 27th January for a 2 hour workshop called ‘Realize your potential’. This is an opportunity to tell your story through metaphor, understand where your limiting beliefs come from, answer your inner critic and find your nurturing voice to soothe, comfort and support you. Here’s what a recent participant said about it,

‘I was amazed by how the simple questions Jacky asked me and the exercises we did together could uncover so much!’

I also have a one hour workshop on 25th January called ‘Writing for reslience’ where I basically share my f**k ups and how I used them to move me forward.

Finally, I know that this newsletter doesn’t round up my year or yours, mention resolutions (oops), promise a new you for the new year (I say NayNay to the NYNY). That’s ok though isn’t it? I’m sure you are getting your fill of that elsewhere!

Oh, second finally, I have started recording the next series of podcast conversations, so please look out for that… I’ll let you know!

If you like this newsletter, or my poems, or me, then please share or subscribe or subscribe with payment.

That’s it for now…

‘Til next time.

Jacky.

Ps. I am a one woman band - no one behind the scenes, just me doing all the writing and producing and recording and website building and laundry washing. WHEN you find errors on my website, can’t book, get a random confirmation email about lobster pots from me, PLEASE let me know so I can deal with it as soon as possible.

Love ya!