Recently I’ve watched a few episodes of “Planet Earth” and “Life”, and I must say: I’m mesmerized. The beauty, the wildness, the eye-popping ingenuity and diversity of life on this planet – all of this is just riveting to me. Both series let us peek into the dining halls and boudoirs of other species, and we see that animals, plants, insects, birds, and fish lead lives every bit as complex and meaningful as ours. Here we see their ability to improvise, to solve problems, to adapt, to create, to share humor, to express love. All of the old truisms about what is unique about us as human beings – humor, love, tool-use, problem-solving, so-called “higher thinking” – break down in the face of such evidence. I’m happy to see that wall crumble. Living as one creature in a world of fascinating, busy, gorgeous, brilliant creatures, makes me feel somehow more at home.
One example of creaturely genius is the multitude of things we all eat and how we catch, grow, kill, trap, outsmart, discover, and otherwise happen upon those things. I watched in amazement as hammerheads dove into shimmering spirals of shoaling fish, or bearded vultures threw down bones from dizzying heights to crack them open and get at the protein-rich marrow inside.
That got me thinking about my own nourishment – and particularly of all the things that feed the Kate that creates. Recently, that creature has dined well.
I attended the Unicorn Writing Conference last weekend, and there I gobbled up a smorgasbord of practical advice about publishing as well as inspiration for new poems and stories. I must say, too, that my fellow diners were delightful, and if I ever needed any confirmation that someone, somewhere, is writing a book on pretty much any subject you can think of, I got that here!
This past week, a new friend sent me a poem written by her 8-year-old son in hopes that I might be able to set it to music. Delicious task! And as it turned out, deeply nourishing both because his poem was astonishing and visionary, and because the process of making a musical setting for it brought me back into alignment with the deepest joy I know.
I’m snacking on all kinds of yummy things lately:
- short stories by Eleanor Farjeon
- a book on shamanism (with fascinating information about the Shipibo people of Peru and their ability to “weave” music)
- poems by Padraig Colm
- a disk of harp music checked out of the library
And I recognize that like any other creature, I’m always on the look out for opportunities to feed myself. I’ll eat anything if it is tasty and nourishing to that part of me that makes poems and songs and stories. And so much is! As I learned watching “Life,” one creature’s parasite is another creature’s four-star meal – and so it is with creators. Somebody’s throw-away line overheard in a cafe can find new life in a poem. One person’s poem sparks another person’s essay. A sculpture can grow up out of broken and discarded bits – even the broken and discarded parts of ourselves.
I’m embracing the life of a joyful omnivore; perhaps you are, too? If we’re canny and creative, if we’re creaturely and courageous, we can eat well anywhere we go. It’s all food. It’s up to the best parts of us to make it delicious.
