The best of the best poets were troubled to say the least. They struggled with inner monologue and saw the world in ways we cannot even imagine. Their words have touched generations and will continue to do so. What separates them from you and me? Nothing. You weren’t expecting that, were you? Seriously, nothing. They woke up every morning to a room illuminated with light and made decisions. That’s what we do, we make decisions.
Most of us begin a typical morning ritual. We pee. We drink coffee and go to work. We drive past the same scenery every day and bask in the glow of familiarity. What separates people like Frost from the general masses is, he took time to dissect the scenery. He wrote with passion about a world seen through troubled eyes. His words struck a chord, however and now he belongs to the ages. Frost is part of a fabric that is forever remembered.
As I read blogs daily, I see dozens of Frosts. People who take life by the balls and write about it. We may not be as adept at iambic pentameter or regular verse, but each of us has a style–a form that transcends.
When I took ballet over 20 years ago my teacher said something to me that resonated. “All of us can be Baryshnikov for the first few movements, but what makes him special is what he does from that moment on.” So true. I can set myself into first position exactly as he can, but after that….
Robert Frost, my favorite poet ever, had a gift and so do I. So do you. Never give up on your dreams. When Frost took hold of his Ticonderoga #2 he had the same thing in mind as we do. His goal was to write. To capture. To announce. Never be afraid to express. We all are Frost from the moment we take hold of our Ticonderoga #2. What we do from there is up to us. I look forward to writing more and reading more fascinating things.
As Frost once said, “We make ourselves a place apart, behind light words that tease and flout. But, Oh, the agitate heart, till someone really finds us out….”
Here’s to finding out.