How Poetry Comes to Me
It comes blundering over the
Boulders at night, it stays
Frightened outside the
Range of my campfire
I go to meet it at the
Edge of the light
Gary Snyder, Collected Poems, 2022
That’s how co-creation comes, as we gather in a circle, like our forebears since the beginning of human time, being together, feeling one another’s ways of being, telling stories, sharing experiences, impressions, thoughts, making connections, including everyone, accepting silence, accepting time. Then, so still, I sense it on the edge of my awareness, the possibility of a possibility, no more, timid I’d say, rather than frightened, a haze of smoke that will vanish with a sudden movement that disturbs the air, so don’t turn to look, never address it, just shuffle a bit to open the circle enough for it to settle in, if it’s ready, if it wants to belong.
I hope this doesn’t sound magical or mystical. I don’t need the supernatural to account for the mysteries of existence; my ignorance is explanation enough. And the metaphor comes from the concrete, everyday practice of co-creation, which begins by making space for everyone who feels outside the circle of art but might like to be invited in. Patience, trust, no expectation, curiosity, interest, kindness; these are human resources that enable people to try something new, and art to come out of the thin mountain air.
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