Words that shimmer
I am a lover of words. I love their capacity to connect us to one another and to make us feel fully seen and understood.
I grew up it a close-knit nuclear family that immigrated from Bulgaria to Belgium when I was eight. Language, philosophy and beauty formed the underground intellectual fiber that kept my parents sane under Communism. They watched every film at the cinema and secretly exchanged rare books and audio cassettes with their friends. Being part of a generation that's overwhelmed by content, I still find it hard to believe that for my parents, culture was clandestine.
So naturally, language, philosophy and beauty were the sense-making tools we used to navigate life in a new country. I grew up in conversation with my family. We would have long dinners every night: analysing, pondering, celebrating, reframing life. Ten years later, I went to study linguistics and semiotics in Paris. It wasn't about being fully fluent, it was about fully belonging. And of course, it was a lot bigger than my own belonging...
In the brilliant interview mentioned a few weeks ago, Ocean Vuong talks about how immigrant children and their parents have a different sense of victory and different, but intertwined, dreams and lives.
That’s the great crisis of the first and second generation: the first generation made it here, [...] encourage you to put your head down: work, fade away, get your meals, and live a quiet life. And I think the second generation, the great conundrum there, the great paradox, is that they want to be seen. They want to make something. And what a better way to make something and feel yourself with agency than to be an artist? So, so many of us immigrant children end up betraying our parents in order to subversively achieve our parents’ dreams.
I love the visceral power of words. I love that the word "visceral" makes us a little uncomfortable because of its Latin roots, carrying the meaning of "internal organs". I love that words have an almost palpable resonance that reverberate across space and time.
I'm thinking about the power of words today as we face the ineffable shock from the violence towards black communities. I wrote "I have no words" earlier this week in response to George Floyd's tragic death. But that's not good enough, and I do have words. We all need to have words, have conversations, and have courage. I loved this tweet from Akilah Hughes (thanks Gemma!) reminding us that we all have agency.
So this week, I'm taking you on a little journey focused on words, to hopefully inspire you to use yours courageously.
Contemplations
If you click on the image of poet Terrance Hayes above, you will hear his beautiful poem American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin.
I love the positive street art that has been popping up in London in the last couple of months such as Mark Titchner's "Please Believe These Days Will Pass". This week I spotted a piece by artist Pythia inviting people to answer the question "When this is all over, how do you want the world to be different?". Someone wrote "no more racism", which is spot on.
Celebrations
My friend, director and activist Jonathan Olinger created a moving video for Black Lives Matter.
I love this Medium article by Hannah Smith who talks about the words that we don't have. She talks about the Māori proverbs used to focus the moment on shared values and aspirations. She shares one proverb that beautifully speaks about why everyone coming together matters: "By appreciating all our voices, our different songs, we make good music for the future".
E koekoe te tūī, e ketekete te kākā, e kūkū te kererū*
The tūī chatters, the kākā cackles and the kererū coos.
This week I'm rewatching my friend Ella Saltmarshe's CreativeMornings talk on courage. She beautifully explains how we all need to do our inventory of courage.
"Your feelings of anger or joy or outrage will be what helps move you into that first action. Remember – courage is just about the first step, and then the next step."
Correlations
Two years ago, we hosted our first Poetika poetry event. We used our friend Lewis' beautiful gallery space on Hackney road. We were three readers sat facing the street and in front of us were three empty chairs. People would queue outside and enter one at the time (social distancing vibes, you know?). When they entered, they would sit in the first chair and hear a poem from me. They would then move to the next chair, and hear a poem from Sam or Angie. Then, they would sit in front of Chris and hear his. Saying moving words to another person, while looking into their eyes is to this day, one of the most intimate experiences I've had. Guests would cry, whisper "thank you", stay silent. It was really, really powerful.
Reflecting on the power of words this week, I'm thinking of the arresting power of poetry. At that first Poetika event, I mostly read one poem: Ars Poetika 100 by Elizabeth Alexander (which also gave the name to our collective). It's my favourite poem. I've used it to close important moments, such as my talk at House of Beautiful Business, or my last CreativeMornings event as a host. Elizabeth, in a beautiful On Being interview, talks about how her children are attracted to "words that shimmer: individual words with power. She tells the story of reading a poem as a simple mic test before an event:
"And let me tell you, hundreds of people literally stopped in their tracks to hear this unknown to them person recite a poem by someone unknown no doubt to most of them. And these hundreds of people, I watched them sort of gather in a darkening sort of cluster and then, when the poem was over, they clapped. In other words, they knew it was something about the form of the poem, right? I didn’t say who I was, or what I was doing, or ask for their attention. The poem asked for their attention inherently."
I like this a lot! It reminds me of the French thinker Simone Weil who wrote that "attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity".
Conversations
Questions communities around me are exploring this week:
What happens if you have signed petitions, made donations, but still feel helpless?
How is the language used in this group different from another?
In a virtual event, what questions can create a feeling of closeness between people who have never met?
That's all for today! Have a beautiful week and keep sharing your ideas and reflexions - I love reading them!
Vx