SBM Poetically Charged Newsletter, Life With Stillness Exists It's Just Hard To Touch
Welcome to Poetically Charged Newsletter! I haven’t done a Newsletter in a while and a second. Sometimes you feel like when you make Newsletters your words go into a chasm, a black hole, a void never to be seen again, felt again, or realized into this world. Maybe every poet and writer feels this. Maybe I’m alone in this feeling, but I felt like I was creating this thing to basically dissipate into the ether and turn back into atmosphere again.
There’s been a lot, I’ve been so busy that talking recently I admitted I don’t slow down. I haven’t even slowed down, even if I’m stationary in a space, I am still conjuring, editing, creating, trying to keep momentum moving. Am I afraid of stillness? Maybe. Am I more busy now in my life than ever before? Yes. Do I mind that busyness? No, because it’s things that fuel me or that I’m highly passionate about. So, a depletion doesn’t really happen, just a realization my body being still feels weird.
Stillness without creation, without promotion or working hard on my projects, making lesson plans for workshops I’m facilitating, all of the things. Even my hikes in nature to reset myself, when of my passions and love I just adore, I rarely stop and when I do I feel my body sigh.
I was told once that you know you’re full because your body signals the satiation by sighing.
I refused to listen to my classmate, then sighed. I had about maybe three, or five pieces of pizza. I was starved, I was like we know when we’re done, and I paused, and it caught up with me that my body was full.
I feel like this metaphor itself could be turned into a poem on knowing your limits and what your body says. But instead, I’m just writing it in this Newsletter of mine.
I’m so proud of myself for memorizing poems but then I have that other side that wants them to not be dropped. I’ve found I’ve been modifying one word and that one section with the one word added I’ll drop it and be unable to retrieve it later. Also, the added anxiety of performing makes my brain less relaxed turtle and more hunted rabbit. Everything seems to set off my connection being severed so we’ve been working on reciting poems outside with music playing at the same time.
I’m human, I’ll make mistakes, it’s how I get back up from them. Failure teaches me how to come at it again and do better. I’m not afraid of failure, and my mind and body always love a good challenge. If you can challenge me, you’ll probably get me passionately into this thing to try to better myself each time we do it.
I’m competitive but only with myself. I like to have goals and reach them and push it further. It’s exciting to me, it fuels me, it’s a thing. Talking about that, I have an in person Houston event June 1st with Write About Now Poetry and their Pride book fair I’m so excited about.
I have an anthology I’ll be published inside, The Poetry Cove, Live Out Loud, and I just got published in “Trails” by Guerilla Poets. I have some other things I’ve been published in and I’m trying to keep an active tally because I love seeing the progression of things.
Poetic Catalysts should be back next month. This one is a little too busy and I wanted it this Thursday but we have an event that day that makes it so that June may be when we get back. June 6th, 6-7:30pm I’ll be teaching with Write About Now Poetry to connect with your Mental Highway, sign up is through here: https://sarahbellummental.com/buy-wan-academy-connect-with-your-mental-highway-w-sbm/
*What I’m Reading: Road Hunger by Shane Mainer I just finished yesterday, it’s amazing! I would recommend getting it for sure.
What I’m listening to Nadua, Creepoid, Amazon Music
What I’m getting ready for the Pride book fair in person, June 1st, with Write About Now Poetry
*What I’m writing: Editing some love poems I made on Friday, jotted down some very loose ideas to come back to
*What’s haunting me: How much my head lies to me and how I listen to the lies sometimes. And, how I replay scenarios to see if I could have done something better or been quieter or just existed differently. I love who I am and I live that loudly, but anxiety is a hell of a codependent relationship.
To all those who hear me, thank you. To all those struggling with kindness or self-compassion for yourself, I see you, I am you, but I know you’re magnificent. Be kind always to your mind.