A story:
I entered an MFA program knowing two things for sure: I loved poetry, and I couldn’t stand Emily Dickinson.
Admittedly, my exposure to Emily Dickinson’s work was limited to say the least, consisting entirely of anthologized poems and the weekly ritual of singing “Because I could not stop for death” to the tune of “The Yellow Rose of Texas” at the end of a local open mic. (The latter possibly contributing to my sourness around Dickinson given the host’s noisy obsession with her and eventual shunning of me after I dated said host’s ex-girlfriend, thus introducing me simultaneously to Poetry Community Drama and Lesbian Community Drama, two joys I’d come to know all too intimately in years to come.)
In my first year of grad school, I expressed my distaste for Dickinson to a professor in conference who, after dropping her shoulders and narrowing her eyes in either despair or distaste, pushed the left side of her signature mane back with a deliberate hand, leaned to me and said something to the effect of, “You are allowed to dislike Emily Dickinson, but you are not allowed not to understand Emily Dickinson.”
A prequel:
When I was a sophomore in high school, a new girl moved into the neighborhood. She had a nose ring, blue hair, and a palpable disdain for everything. My mother, quite uncharacteristically, tried to insist that we become friends. I didn’t like her. I explained this to my mother who said something about judging books by covers and guilted me into at least riding the bus with her a few times.
The everything New Girl disliked included me, so we managed largely to avoid each other despite our respective mothers’ efforts. About six months later, I was sitting in the school pick-up/drop-off area waiting for my ride to the orthodontist when an ambulance blew in and New Girl was carried out on a stretcher: bad acid trip during lunch period, possible overdose, reliable sources reported.
A point (or two):
When we meet a poem that doesn’t fit our aesthetic – that is too abstract or too narrative or too political or too minutely descriptive of the bark of an old oak tree – we often say “this is not a good poem” or “I don’t like this poem” or “this poem has little or nothing to teach me.”
But what if we approach the poem on its own terms? What if we assume that the poet who formed it and put it out in the world did so with great purpose and focused effort? What if we begin with curiosity instead of criticism?
If we do this, we can discover things to which our initial judgments blinded us. This is relatively common practice in educational settings where groups of people gather to analyze published work and learn from it, but it’s equally applicable when we approach poems in workshop settings, on open mics, in slams, and so forth.
There’s a parallel to this in human interaction. Ideally, we do not meet someone and immediately consider what we would change about them. Ideally, we assume positive intent on their part, that they are who they are intentionally and have shaped their lives and the way they move through the world not to injure or offend us but because it is an authentic (at least to them) representation of who they are.
But if we encounter a person who is brash and seemingly sure of everything, robust in their opinions, and our aesthetic is for a softer, more inquisitive, gentler person, we may immediately think “I don’t like this person,” or “this is not a good person” or “this person has nothing to teach me.”
But if we go forth in relationship with curiosity – if we ask why this person sets off in us these feelings, how they connect with parts of ourselves in shadow or light, disgust or desire about ourselves, we can see them as a teacher and potentially make different choices.
The point (really, this time):
Certainly, not every person needs to become our intimate companion, nor every poem have a place among our beloved library. Not every person or every poem is even “good,” though “good” becomes less important in this framework than “transformative” or “teaching.”
But Emily Dickinson taught me to dig into abstraction, and to trust even what I couldn’t fully intellectually comprehend but could feel. And while I still don’t belong to the Emily Dickinson fan club, understanding her work opened the door to my reading and loving Li-Young Lee’s work, and Anne Carson’s work, and the work of poets I meet whose work treads a more fantastic terrain than I was previously open to traversing.
The New Girl down the block didn’t get to teach me anything, because I decided there was nothing to learn. But ten years later I was the one with blue hair and piercings, and I wonder still what became of her.
What makes some poems worthy of our assuming they were created with intent? What makes some people worthy of our pushing past our prejudices? These are questions that go beyond aesthetics and move into the arena of why we assign value to what and to whom.
It’s only when we are able to meet people and poems on their terms, rather than ours, that we are able to apprehend their magic. Every one we encounter has something to teach us. What a heavenly laboratory that makes this planet. What a gift.
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Posted by: mccartv | April 08, 2015 at 06:26 AM
first!
Posted by: youtuber | April 29, 2015 at 09:58 AM
If I was your mom I would be proud.
Posted by: le reddit | April 29, 2015 at 10:00 AM
very great message
Posted by: Donat | April 29, 2015 at 10:02 AM
i still judge books, like this is an 8 and a half
Posted by: josh | April 29, 2015 at 10:02 AM
beautifully crafted and very meaningful
Posted by: Alvi C. | April 29, 2015 at 10:02 AM
I like that you preach for an open mind, everybody should be able to act how they want and not be judged.
Posted by: Kyle | April 29, 2015 at 10:02 AM
You are my aesthetic.
Posted by: adriana vaca | April 29, 2015 at 10:02 AM
this was a good lesson that everyone should learn
Posted by: Jo | April 29, 2015 at 10:02 AM
I like that Marty McConnell said that you don't have to like a certain person, or writing, but you must at least try to understand them/it.
Posted by: Samantha | April 29, 2015 at 10:03 AM
/\ this comment stinks
Posted by: troll | April 29, 2015 at 10:03 AM
I liked how the topic was focused on one thing, but you wrapped the piece around more than just one event. You used other points to get your message across to the audience.
Posted by: Alyssa | April 29, 2015 at 10:03 AM
This piece has a very meaningful message
Posted by: Zack | April 29, 2015 at 10:04 AM
The point you bring up about the importance of understanding people and writing that one doesn't necessarily like really resonates with me. I agree with that point because if one doesn't at least try to understand things that don't fit our aesthetic, then we become ignorant to what we could learn about and from those things.
Posted by: Miguel Gutierrez | April 29, 2015 at 10:04 AM
Your use of vocabulary along with personal experience provides a personal and relatable read. Your point was well made and clear. You are an amazing writer!
Posted by: Nicole M. | April 29, 2015 at 10:04 AM
I agree with the point being made in this piece. Instead of stubbornly disliking someone or something, we should all try to understand what is making us feel that way. By trying to understand our aesthetics and venturing beyond them, we can learn a lot more than originally thought.
Posted by: Sydney | April 29, 2015 at 10:04 AM
This was a nice read. It made me think of similar situations and how I always give a chance for people before I judge. I think it's true how a person can learn from another despite not liking them and also how much a person can grow with time before becoming someone else that they may have disliked. Overall nice read and yeah ;3
Posted by: Syainya | April 29, 2015 at 10:04 AM
I really liked this piece, it shows how what we think is our aesthetic is in fact just what we are used to.
Posted by: Kyra Moulton | April 29, 2015 at 10:04 AM
I find it interesting that a professional poet doesn't like one of the most well known poets. It is sort of liberating to know that even someone in the field is able to dislike someone so highly regarded.
Posted by: Noah | April 29, 2015 at 10:05 AM
Allowing oneself to be able to understand someone else's thought or views can more often turn us prejudice. So how is it we should allow to have our own criticism molded differently because of others' way of thinking?
I do understand that the need for an open mind is a virtue to posses but it does not permit you to learn from others.
Posted by: salma | April 29, 2015 at 10:05 AM
I find this sort of problem everyday. The 'don't judge until you know' type deal hits home a lot, since it's human nature to immediately judge a person once you've laid your eyes on them. I think a large part of this piece (and a large part of becoming a well rounded human being) is to be able to look for something to learn from someone or something you originally would dislike. I enjoyed this piece, and agree, you can and should take away something from every person you meet, even if they (or it) aren't your style.
Posted by: M | April 29, 2015 at 10:05 AM
I know Li-Young Lee's work as well. I am inclined to agree with Marty about my aesthetic choice too. However, I know that Lee was lost in his own reading of Emily. He told me a story once about working on an advanced degree in poetry: He said the prof told him to go read 'Moby Dick', and to go read Emily Dickinson. Lee didn't return back to class until the end of the semester. The prof asked where he was, and he said he was READING Moby Dick, he was READING Emily Dickinson. How could he go back to class, he was reading. I liked that story.
Posted by: Mark Eleveld | April 29, 2015 at 10:05 AM
This blog does a really good job of saying not to judge a book by its cover. Although you may not like something or someone from their first impression it is important to look deeper into the meaning of things before you completely right it off because you might learn something from it.
Posted by: Kara | April 29, 2015 at 10:05 AM
"What if we begin with curiosity instead of criticism?" Some might argue that this is not doable. When does curiosity convert itself to criticism?
Posted by: Jaidah Blakney | April 29, 2015 at 10:05 AM
My first thought is that I love Emily Dickinson. My second thought is that I love this post. It makes me genuinely want to change the way I view people and I'm not overtly fond of change so that's new. Thank you for writing such a thought-provoking piece!
Posted by: Jess | April 29, 2015 at 10:06 AM