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Last night I was fortunate to have a chance to attend a poetry reading.
I know that many of you must be thinking: is "fortunate" really the word you're looking for? After all, poetry is at best a niche literary interest these days, a mere blip on the cultural landscape, and a lot of people would rather do almost anything than be subjected to a poetry recital. We assume it's a dry, dull relic of a different age, or that it's too highbrow, too academic to possibly enjoy as entertainment. We think it lacks relevance or immediacy or significance. We think, quite honestly, that it's boring.
And frankly, in a lot of cases, we'd be right.
But in the right hands, with the right subject, and the right setting, it can be magic, too. And last night was a kind of magic. I've honestly never seen a big concert hall full of people laugh at a poem, or sigh with happiness at one, or recognize a universal truth in one and nod as a group, much less see that room give a poet a standing ovation. As the poet in question---Inaugural Poet Richard Blanco---quipped "I feel like Beyoncé!"
Thanks to a local arts foundation and the hard work of a dedicated group of inspired individuals in the local arts community, this event was free...and all the more wonderful for that, as I looked at the not-so-typical crowd for that venue (which usually hosts symphony and ballet performances, as well as the occasional touring company of a Broadway show). This crowd was quirky, often plainly or oddly dressed. There were a lot of teachers and a sprinkling of students; there was a very visible LGBTQ contingent. Quite a few disabled folks. A lot of artists. A couple of guys who looked like they'd come straight from a logging camp. Mostly White faces, typical for my ethnically challenged state. There weren't a lot of people there that looked or sounded anything like the man who took the podium to share his poetry with us.
But somehow, because he is best known for a poem that was written specifically to celebrate the diversity and promise of our country, and because most of his work considers or reflects the themes of cultural identity and connectedness, we responded as one---as community. And I left there thinking about connections.
None of us operate in a vacuum. Even the most isolated and private of people are part of a larger whole. Even those with wildly different backgrounds, cultural traditions, or life experiences can find some common threads within community. We can all relate to themes raised in a poem like One Today, written specifically for that purpose.
But I found myself realizing that we can find commonalities in works that are much more specific in terms of cultural or personal identity, too. My upbringing couldn't have been more different than his, but I---like many of those sitting around me in that hall last night---recognized and understood and related to this work. Hadn't we all had to deal with a difficult relative? (A "real pip" was the term he used in his introduction, and we laughed because we got it.)
We are connected, in ways great and small. As a society. As communities. In cultural groups. In families. We make---and break---connections as we navigate our way through life, through troubles, through events good and bad. Strong connections can make all the difference in how well we succeed at our attempts to change what is not working in our lives, or our behaviors, or relationships. Sometimes the connections (and disconnections) are painful and messy; sometimes they are positive and life-affirming, and sometimes, they are just the comforting status quo that allows us to drift a bit when that's all we can muster up the strength for. We make connections because it's what we do, as humans. Where we go from there is up to us.
Who's Your Li'l Buddy?
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