A Bold Undertaking

I have been reading Thomas Lynch and realizing that all writing is poetry—all writing of mine is, at least. Or it wants to be. Words want to sound right; they want to flow past one another. They want to find meaning in a clear unambiguous fashion, but they want to do it with flair, with an awareness of their own sounds and history. Each word wants to be properly placed in the matrix of history, meaning, and personal significance.

I want to write like Lynch. I want it so badly, I am romanticizing his profession. The man is a writer and poet by avocation, but an undertaker by trade. Casting the poet’s life as a worthy one is no great leap; making a funeral director’s existence sound worthy of envy is a greater accomplishment.

Lynch says that poetry is appreciated by many and avoided by most. But we should write it anyway. Be like him: write poetry for twenty years in order to develop in your bones a feel for language. After that long marinating in poetry, the prose you produce will be the sort that people want to read.

His insights into death are similarly practical and profound. Listen to the stillness of the body, says Lynch. Find the space where consciousness resides, and notice the quality of its departure. Contemplate what it means to be alive, to have a life, to be alive and relating to children and lovers and family and coworkers. Marvel that time will proceed apace in your absence, after your own personal world is snuffed out.

There are Zen stories that pivot on just such admonitions.

I could never write like Lynch. For one thing he is a better writer: more practiced, more disciplined, more experienced, more possessed of an entertaining personal history to use as fodder. More importantly, though, is the fact that we can only write as our selves. I cannot write like someone else. Suitably experienced, practiced, disciplined, suitably wise and rueful in retrospect, I would be a terrific teller of my own story, a masterful sharer of my own mind.

I could follow that advice: I could write poetry for twenty years. The wisdom and life experience and regrets will all take care of themselves. There is always something to write about. The challenge is finding the words to capture the truth.

what Zen is all about
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Related Links:

Frontline: The Undertaking

Bodies In Motion and At Rest

Koans