I am at a bit of crossroads with my writing, my writing career (two different things), and my life in general. A friend sent me this poem yesterday to help me remember what is important to me and how taking the easy way out is not going to help me reach my goals. It’s the sort of poem I looked for when I was in Junior High and High School; the kind I would write in every one of my notebooks and pin up on the wall in my room. Right now it is on the wall next to Mary Oliver’s JOURNEY.
You enter the forest
at the darkest point,
where there is no path.
Where there is a way or path,
it is someone else’s path.
You are not on your own path.
If you follow someone else’s way,
you are not going to realize
your potential.
It takes courage
to do what you want.
Other people
have a lot of plans for you.
Nobody wants you to do
what you want to do.
They want you to go on their trip…
– Joseph Campbell
perfect.
isn’t it just? we need to remember this.
As Joe Campbell would say, “follow your bliss.”
Indeed. I (heart) Joesph Campbell.
Oh my.
That gave me chillbumps.
And I know someone who very much needs just such encouragement right now. Thank you for posting it.
I’m glad the poem will be able to be passed on to someone else who needs it. You might also want to check out my last week’s poetry Friday post for The Journey, which I also find very encouraging.
((SUSAN))
THank you for the lovely poem; it came to you but spoke also to me.
Remember whe I sent you a picture of me with my my beautiful rock, Posy? She died on Tuesday.
http://newport2newport.livejournal.com/49386.html?mode=reply
…so now, I’m walking through a dark forest myself…and so I understand in some small way what your post is saying.
HUGS to you!
Oh Melodye, I am so so sorry to hear that you have lost your rock Posy. I know she filled a very special place in your heart and I am glad you had her with you for so many years. The hole her leaving has left must be huge. Hugs and love to you.
So true. Sometimes I feel like I’m always fighting to follow my own path.
Isn’t it funny (probably funny sad and not funny haha) that we have to fight to do what we want, even when what we want isn’t hurting anyone else?
Thanks for sharing that!
you are very welcome!
great piece! and what’s funny is it’s almost not even a poem at all. just what seems to many of us as logical advice. i suppose there are many people who are quite content following someone elses path. and those that would be lost without a defined plan. but with creatives that’s our dilema. if that’s the right word.
i was watching an episode of “six feet under” and one of clare’s art student friends is asked “why are you an artist?” his reply: “what choice do i have? if i can’t make art, i don’t see any point in being alive.”
i like that.
later in the episode the teacher explains “you’re not an artist til you find your own voice”.
and therein lies the dilema. we need to make that path. and that isn’t easy.
thanks for a great contemplative lunchtime break!
yep, creating the path is one of the toughest things, at least for me.
BTW, major delay on my project for you. If you need to move on with someone else, I understand.
I’m in “santa-land” right working on a commission portrait….then it’s Kelly’s and The Beatles….so, no rush.
My poetry again
Hello,
Now I`m an user…I mean I`ve already left a message on your page as an anonymous ( Anastasia Lorn ), hm, without any contact information. I hope you will reply to me soon. I very need a professional help. Here is my poem again
A dense fog has muffled a silent wood,
and me, so far from home, no light in the neighborhood!
Up to the sky with a milky way and a dying moon
I look and see – that a dawn will burn soon.
A foggy breath makes my shoulders shiver,
Not knowing a path I`m following my lonely fever
To ask what backward thoughts are born with a morning dew?
What answers did I find, what lesson will I learn anew?
Why is pride so variable, and nature so obscure:
That repelled me of late now fatally allures.
How sorrowful it`s to know my heart and mind
What way my vain rebellion will find,
That a waning Moon can`t warm the cold stones,
And even a wild beast tamed one day will come home
To prostrate itself before the master`s feet,
And look at clever eyes humbly asking to forgive it,
And return to its neck a leaden ring,
Belonging to one`s will, and waiting for a bloodless win,
And make its heart of pinching joy be full
With one`s low voice, and by the mighty rule.
Re: Hey Hey!
I can’t tell you how many emails I have started to you. Bad wannabe friend, aren’t I?
I didn’t want to call you while I was sick, which I still sort of am. And I didn’t want to call you when I was depressed, because then I’d either burst into tears or whine in your ear until you screamed. Not a good way to build something up. 🙂
Next week? Any day but Wednesday. I can call around 3:00 ish, would that work?