Tag: judgement

Reckoning | Beckoning #poem

Note: This poem has a three column structure so if you are reading it on a small screen device you should switch from ‘mobile’ to ‘tablet’ view to see it properly…

Reckoning?

It is time to rid myself
of
reckoning

The harsh
interrogation of
“How did it go?”

Checking off the actions
against
all those on my list

Only really noticing
the many
I have missed

Assessing my
progress, comparing
with my plan

Keeping track of
distances,
measuring their span

Monitoring my
output so I always
know the score

Emerging with the
figures, highlighting
my flaws

Counting up the wins
and losses,
totaling
to find their sum

I feel kind of
useless when the
reckoning is done

or

and



or



or



or



or



or



or



or



or




so

Beckoning?

Instead, I will try to see
what’s
beckoning

A gentler
introspection
of my flow

Seeking the resonant
vibrations that prove that
I exist

Keeping mind wide open
so that
nothing is dismissed

Reminding myself
that all the time
I’m doing the best I can

Recognising that
what matters is
simply that I ran

Realising the damage
done by
always wanting more

Noticing the many things
born deep
within my core

Dispensing with
judgement,
to prove the worth
of all I’ve done

I embrace my
beckoning question
“What has come?”

(c) Tim O’Hare, February 2024

About this poem: This poem has its origin in a conversation that took place during my last coaching session a couple of weeks ago. I was recounting how terrible I am at following the plans I make and how this generates an intense feeling of frustration and results in me being in a constant spiral of planning, frustration, planning, frustration and a pervading sense of uselessness. I was challenged to come up with an alternative non-judgmental question that I could ask myself and responded almost instantly that I could replace “How did it go?” with “What has come?“. We played with this idea for a while – focusing on how my “What has come?” question would naturally lead me to draw out achievements, output and activities that had emerged from within me without triggering my natural tendency to measure progress, evaluate success and generally judge myself against the completely unnecessary and arbitrary ‘success criteria’ that I carry in my head. My coach loved my question and referred to it as my ‘beckoning question’…

The poem is written as two verses, one relating to the ‘reckoning question’ (on the left) and the other relating to the ‘beckoning question’ (on the right), but it is also possible to read the poem taking one line from each verse in turn and adding the additional bridging word (‘and‘, ‘or‘, ‘so‘) shown in italics between the two verses. I suspect that this layout won’t work very well if the poem is viewed on a small screen (mobile) device but hopefully it works well enough!

Poetry #poem

I do not know if my poems are any good,
but it seems they help my essence to be understood,
whether by others or simply by myself,
this last, of course, itself essential for my health.

I do not know if my poems are enjoyable to read,
but it seems that crafting them fulfils some vital need,
and that allowing thoughts and feelings to gush forth
provides a compass I can use to find my north.

It seems as if through searching for each rhyme
I’ve stumbled on a way to slow down time,
and that now, through sculpting syllable-istic rhythm,
I see the world in multitudinous ways –
split infinite like sunlight passing through a prism.

And so, once more, I drop into the mine,
to chip away and work the line,
to trace the seam right to its core,
and scrape out all the mineral ore.
I hammer hard to split a rock,
in hope it is a nugget-bearing block,
in hope it might just be the one to hold
a precious, piece of sparkling gold.

I do not know if my poems hit the mark,
but certainly they’ve lit a spark.
So now the flames inside me roar,
and I can ask for nothing more.

Here goes…
First, time slows,
an idea flows,
like water spurting from a hose.
The seedling grows.
The petals unfurl upon the rose.

I take my chance…
Falling deep into the trance,
where visions glance,
words prance,
and rhythms dance.
And then I emerge, life enhanced.

In those moments, my whole world collapses onto a single spot.
So much energy compressed into a tiny dot-
freezing cold yet furnace hot.
I do not know if my poems are any good.
I do not know if my poems are enjoyable to read.
I do not know if my poems hit the mark.
It matters not.

(c) Tim O’Hare, July 2023

POETRY: I had some nice feedback on the first few poems that I wrote, but as this all came from people that knew me well it was impossible not to feel that it must be biased, even if only subconsciously. I began to think about whether my poems really were any good. This is the kind of thinking that usually drains my motivation and stops me in my tracks. But I have changed a bit in recent months, and pondering this a little more, I was able to acknowledge that whether or not anyone else liked my poems, I enjoyed the process of creating them, and was learning about myself as I did so.