Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Scissor kick ...



Run & I promise you, you'll fall.
  Open your eyes. You'll blink.
    Shift. Part of you will stay.
      Swim. Part of you will sink.

      Commit & soon you'll itch to leave.
        Leave & you will feel that loss
          Tugging your un-buttoned sleeve,
            Stubbling your face across.

                Hate & you will twitch for action.
                  Love & you will pause –– to think of
                    All the skin-shells quaking with you,
                      Living near your brink

                           & being a totality
                             Inside their own lone senses,
                               Yearning in their delicacy &
                                 Hating – so immense is

                                         Their unsureness. Huff & you'll
                                           Crave the hot meal rosing. Call
                                              & you'll hear the valleys opening.
                                                Lean, step in: I promise you, you'll fall.

15 comments:

  1. A Yin-Yang sign made of the phrase “Human Nature” would have been too on-the-nose.

    I think that contemplating the less epic incarnations of polar forces within one's own life … is not only humbling and somewhat comforting … but also imminently useful. We are each our own best tool – learning what you do well (making holes, or patching them; prying open, or squeezing together) is how you find your place in the toolbox.

    (The Light & Dark, the Sky & Earth, are not the only elements in balance – carrying seeds of their opposites, inviting a pull to form in the vacuum of their own excessive push, and creating a balance within that invigorating tumble – merely the grandest. We too find our balance by leaning on the complimentary differences of others: all inclined slightly too far in a certain direction; pulled back by our kin, over-steering in their own directions; convening as a family, a village, a species, an ecosystem, a soup of elements, a balance.)

    *Thanks to Michelle (the girl & dog), Les (the jelly), Big Tex (dying & blossoming at the Dallas State Fair), Ray Bradbury (the quote), Cornell Capa (chess-playing inmates), and Ana Braga-Henebry (the shadow of ducks) for making this collage full.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Balance is an important thing to have in life, but so is imbalance. I agree, it is truly the imbalances, especially the marginal ones, that shape us. Discovering the way we react to them, and in turn absorbing the information, makes us more productive and usually more content as we learn to handle them. Although this poem comments on the merits of imbalance, I also see it as a sort of warning (do this and you will fall/be subjected to some repercussion). Was it intended to be this way? Yet, we almost seek this sort of "failure". We crave answers and consolation. It is important that we build a sense of community and the cycle of imbalance and consolation can foster that. The images of fragility (the skin-shells quaking, their "delicacy) are representative of us and the uncertainty that comes with decision making, but there is a kind of strength in us all for taking that leap being aware of the consequences. The more pieces we get, the more answers we get. Thank you for the poem.
    - Rachel A.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "Huff & you'll / Crave the hot meal rosing. / Call & you'll hear the valleys opening. / Lean, step in: I promise you, you'll fall." Falling's not framed as a negative thing at all - a natural consequence, a valuable outcome, something to be anticipated ... with enthusiasm, even.

      "Sun-Chaser" and a few other poems carry a similar theme.
      Glad you liked this one.

      Delete
  3. I always say that if I could do something with no risk of failing, I wouldn’t do it. I almost would rather fail because traveling hopeful and uncertain is a better thing than simply arriving. After all, I believe true success dwells in the labors of the journey. Like you said in your comment, “We are each our own best tool – learning what you do well (making holes, or patching them; prying open, or squeezing together) is how you find your place in the toolbox.” One will be come “successful” only by experiencing the opposite of what is intended—assuming eventual success is the ultimate goal, I suppose. Nonetheless, it was comforting to be reassured by the poem that there is no short-cut, guaranteed success. I’m assuming the intentions were to portray the complimentary aspects of opposing things, but I was almost shocked at just how comforting the poem was my initial read through, considering I’ve been so groomed to expect discomfort with constrast. However, as a dancer, I realize that balance comes by pulling on opposite forces, something I believe is often forgotten. Most today trust in a flawed definition of balance, turning the word into some kind of juggling act—but balance is much more simple than is given credit to. We forget just how balanced we all are naturally. As you said, failure is not cushioned with negativity but rather is a natural part of life that should be expected with enthusiasm because that is what will bring about that so desired balance.

    Also, I want to add just how much I LOVED the repeat of “I promise you, you’ll fall” in the first and last line. There is something about that repeat that emits experience, which lends the reader a sense of trust in your words. The differing first parts of the lines were such simple, yet profound reminders that some things will result in similar, if not the same, “failures” but you can promise that we will find our way there eventually.
    Gracie M.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh another thing that just kind of came to me after another read through is how the “Run.” or “Open your eyes.” are all commands. You are demanding that one DO these things, not TRY to do these things or halfway do them. Yes, you promise that there will be “consequences” (I hate to use that word because it has such a negative connotation but I can’t think of a better word to portray what I’m trying to say) that follow, but that’s the part you learn from. I love that message. I love this poem. Your work is all very beautiful.

      Delete
    2. Yeah - I can get a little pushy with my poems :)
      life's too short beat around the bush, yeah?

      I'm glad you like this, Gracie

      Delete
  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I think I may have misinterpreted this poem after reading the comments, but my interpretation of the poem resonates with my “life-moment” at the moment…so here goes:
    Rather than seeing the central message as examining balance and polar forces, I saw more specifically the dualism of decision making. I saw the majority of the poem reflecting on the uncertainty that everyone feels when choosing between two alternatives. After every decision, there will always be that sense of “what if I had chosen the other path?” Lurking underneath every seemingly well-thought decision is that sense of remorse, regret, “[Leaving] and [feeling] that loss / Tugging your un-buttoned sleeve.”
    In the title, “Scissor Kick,” there lies the inevitability of falling even when the kick is successful. Specifically, in the first and last stanzas, I thought the poem addressed the ambivalence between the potential of action and the inherent risks that lie in those very actions. In choosing to “run” rather than walk, for the potential of speed and adrenaline, in choosing to “lean” rather than not, for the potential to glimpse what’s over the edge, we accept the risk of falling. However, as you mentioned above, falling shouldn't be viewed as a negative consequence. Rather, falling is almost a treasured necessity in our accumulation of experience.
    In relation to my own life-moment as a senior in high school, I’ve been offered two possible college paths: one guaranteeing me an MD in 6 years, the other giving me the unique chance to train in the army and still receive a great undergrad education. Both are equally enticing to me. The first option is a safe, prearranged route. It eliminates the hassle and uncertainty of applying to graduate medical school. I can start pursuing my interests and practice medicine at a young age. The second option bears risk, yet infinite possibilities. Am I willing to sacrifice 12 or more years of my life to the army? Will I be able to handle the rigorous physical and mental struggles? Will I be sent to a war zone? But how many can honestly say, “I’ve experienced the thrill of dropping from a helicopter” or “I’ve thrown a grenade.” I know for certain, I will fall miserably and embarrassingly at WestPoint, but the potential of the experiences gained might be worth it?
    I love the last sentence “Lean, step in: I promise you, you'll fall.” Your words have lent me so much comfort and reassurance to take the risk, because in the long run, taking the fall, initially perceived as a danger, contributes to our own web of experiences from which we grow and develop as our own individuals.
    That is probably way more than you would have ever wanted to know about me, but I sincerely thank you for the therapeutic effect this poem had on me :) 

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I DID mean this poem to be about the "duality" of decision-making, as you put it, Annette -- not so much as in "second guessing your chosen path over alternate paths," more as in "being hesitant to go because of the risks involved in going." The poem is an attempt to allay those worries by reframing them as benefits (it's GOOD to fall, and I promise you, you will). Thus "scissor kick" (not the areal strike, but the swimming motion): two legs thrown in an unproductive side-direction, coming together to propel you forward.

      Regarding your particular "life moment," Annette, I'd suggest that you focus on what you stand to gain as a human from your two paths -- risks are only excuses for ignoring the essential matter.

      If you really want to help heal people, above all but you also want to experience some danger and unknown in your life, I'd suggest med school (because you can jump out of a plane any number of ways, you can challenge your mental/physical strength with any chosen combination of challenges -- mine were pole vault, weights, barefoot running, and martial arts -- and you can always start competitive fighting if you want to feel someone's life in your hands ... throwing a grenade is a coward's way to kill: it holds no intimacy or compassion).

      But if what you really want to do in life is learn -- and teach, and show by example -- the mastery of deferential obedience, personal discipline, and psychological/physical resilience, then I'd say go to Westpoint ... they could use some good female leaders to turn around the military's deplorable track record of female sexual abuse at all levels.
      http://www.npr.org/2013/03/21/174840895/sexual-violence-victims-say-military-justice-system-is-broken

      Delete
    2. Thank you for the advice :)

      Delete
  6. “Scissor Kick” reminds me of the laws of gravity; “what goes up must come down” and all. There is always another side to the situation, another angle to be explored, no matter how certain one may be in their decision or belief. There is never a one-way approach to something, and in making decisions, one must consider all of the possibilities and options.
    Every stanza discusses uncertainty and opposites in general. “Run and I promise you, you’ll fall” and “Open your eyes. You’ll blink” are only two examples. Through these comparisons, this poem seems to convey frustration with life in general, with the way that everything can spin and upend itself in an instant, away from one’s control. It is upsetting that every move we make is unpredictable, that everything has an unintended effect, and that no matter how hard we try to control these effects, we try in vain -- they happen anyway. The appearance of the poem also conveys a downward trend, in the sense that we begin to undertake some task with optimism, but there is always an inevitable fall.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "Huff & you'll Crave the hot meal rosing. Call & you'll hear the valleys opening." -- do you consider those as downward trends?

      This is not a manically happy poem -- but it is a positive one.

      Delete
  7. I really enjoyed reading this poem. It reminds me of the concept that without out the good there is no bad and without the bad there is no good. And I definitely do see the yin yang aspect in the poem and I feel like it captures the way the poem is told. The poem is told in a straightforward and to the point way in which two opposite things work together to create a singular event or action. It’s absence of descriptors and adjectives makes the poem standout in a refreshing way in which the plainness allows the message to be the main focus of the poem. I see it in the way it relates to life in which everything is black and white and in order to live life the way one wants to someone can either act upon the white or black but still understand that they hold the opposing side within themselves. Its the inevitable outcome that both the good and bad will reveal themselves through singular events and that the two are created to connect to each other yet neither one can exist without the other.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I find an odd sense of comfort in this poem because although it assures that things will go the opposite way you planned them, it relaxes the expectations usually placed on people. My goals will not turn out exactly how I envisioned them, and that’s okay because humans are flawed and cannot complete anything in a perfect manner. The poem is emphasizing the natural and important experience of failure that all humans will encounter throughout life. Different situations are presented, such as running, swimming, and leaving, along with their respective failures: falling, sinking, and yearning for what you left behind. This shows that in whatever one attempts to do in life, there will never be total certainty and success because life is not perfect and there are setbacks. These setbacks, however, are not totally defeating, because only part of a person will sink, or only part of a person will be unsure about someone they choose to love. Even with these failures, we still try to accomplish new things and see our endeavors through, making stronger people in the end. As the poem continues, each stanza shifts to the right, invoking the feeling of hope that life goes on with imperfections.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. "an odd sense of comfort" was exactly what I was going for - glad it found you :)

      Delete