"Write What You Are Passionate About"

So I went to hear a poet read and sing on Friday night. It was a big effort to get out, knowing I would be alone, probably miss it and that it was thirty minutes away (which is far for Ann Arbor, where almost everything is within fifteen). Due to some luck or synchronicity or divine intervention, I got there at the intermission, just before he went on stage to begin his performance.

The guy is Matthew Hunter and one of his pieces is titled, Angel. Prior to reading it, he announced that he does not know this girl, Angel, beyond having spoken with her once. He went on to say that when you write about someone you don’t know, you are speaking about yourself. It felt like he was someone for what he did and for her enthusiasm about everyone he encountered. As I think about this guy, who I do not know beyond his readings, I envy his ability to command space.

I would like to be able to say anything, sing without regret, speak words with emphasis and mean them. To align it all to look important like he does, singing, writing and fighting for Civil Rights and pursuing some advanced degree like Public Health. I want to matter.

So what does it look like to command my own ship, or as he suggested, “write what you are passionate about.” I believe it translates to listening to my internal reactions and observing how I describe the world, as a way of understanding myself. It means continually wondering what is bigger in my character, my struggle with a son or my own disappointment in me.  Silencing that voice that runs on about how I didn’t do the dishes, didn’t stop to listen to my son, didn’t call you, wrote a shitty piece, am selfishly using money for childcare to support being lazy.

In this moment, bigger means sitting for 5 minutes in silence, letting go of expectation, RUNNING, writing the character who might be worth a penny, might not have an epiphany or might be incapable of a witty interlude anyone. Listening when my son says, “Mom, I don’t want you to be grumpy ever again, ok?”

Today, I want to be with David as he plays the “mother” in Mother May I and tells me not to sing. I want to understand why he fights to be the boss. Is he looking for connection, testing his own authority or just too tired to play nicely? Lately, I have struggled to grow beyond “yeses” and “nos” and the make believe stories of our days, as I practice my role as parent. I think that if I can just listen, we can both experience a new way of enjoying attention.