I wrote this poem in 2009 in June Jordan’s “Poetry for the People” class at Berkeley. The teacher, Aya de Leon, encouraged us not to have disclaimers before our readings so the audience can receive the work in their own way.
I wrote an entire poem as a disclaimer because, at the time, I struggled with calling myself a writer. I still do. Someone in office hours this month asked me about my relationship to writing and my response was, “it’s fraught.”
I have always had an easier time with writing in structured environments, but in the web of sabbatical, my writing environments are pliable, mutable and most inviting in the middle of the night. I just haven’t had the energy.
When I wrote this piece, I remember not having the energy to push something out for a deadline. I didn’t want to write from the same space of grief that I entered through for previous poems about my time in Afghanistan in 2008. I was tired of explaining my politics, so I dissolved the writer and became something else.
Over the last two weeks of the month, I dissolved the daily newsletter writer and became really freaking present. I have opted for closeness with family, long walks, the climbing gym and extended mornings that go until about sunset. I promise I’ve been streaming every day, I just didn’t make it this far because I crave the visceral world much more than the digital this winter.
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At this stage in my sabbatical journey, I have had to make concerted efforts to stop and realize how much doing there really is when on a journey to rest, recover fragments of one’s soul and creative spirit, and to reconfigure one’s guidance system through alternative education. Sabbatical is a cute word, but rest is no joke. It’s why we have ministers to guide us through the spiritual journey of unplugging oneself from the mainframe, shutting down the grind until we know the grind is nothing without our belief in it!
When I transitioned out of employment, I had every scary thought about walking away from my career at a peak moment. If I disappear, will I be old news? Will people want to work with me if I’m honest about my values? Will projects spark joy in me ever again?
I have scolded myself for how minimally I can do actual paid work, how much recovery time I need from big social interactions, my confusion with where I’m going in life etc. I have struggled with my own audacity, and ashamed with certain well-meaning decisions and promises I make that can’t be fulfilled.
When we take the time to truly unplug, we don’t go directly to peace, we have to wade through everything on our way there. In the murk of all these questions and all the time spent in agony, I realize, at the very least, that what might be lost in the worst case scenario is something I can recover from quite easily. I might lose sleep, but I won’t lose my family and who I am at my core.
Disclaimer was a buoy at a time where I was fed up with myself and the world. In a strange way it brought me a sense of peace to read this twenty year old version of me contesting with things I still find challenging, but in new ways.
I find myself constantly questioning if the world needs another writer, another artist, another person combing their thoughts and archives to share with others. Where I keep arriving with this thought is that I love and need to write. It’s a significant part of my well-being to write, collect, archive, research, connect nodes. To contemplate and broadcast a savory collection of words. I want my writing to feed people more than I care for it to feed me, and I’m trying to be better about that.
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These last two weeks of quiet streaming have fed me tremendously. I have considered which of the dozens of thoughts and ideas jumping out of my notebook to share with you all, but set them aside because I make up the rules here anyhow.
I am taking my time finding the right stepping stones to place in the currents of a winter river. I am focused on the crossing experience more than what’s on the other side. I’ve just gotten my presence game solid a mere 17 months into sabbatical, and that is a sweetness I’d like to stick to for a bit longer. It’s why Nowruz in March is the official new year of 2023. Tell your friends. You heard it here first.
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If you made it this far~~
I am considering sharing a peek of my offline field notes for each day I missed this month to readers who might be interested. A private stream just for you. If you’re interested, reply to this email or comment on the post with some words on your favorite stream / a reflection of your own you’d like to share and I’ll pull something from my notes oracle style just for you.
Disclaimer