The Unfinished File
Half written poems in a file -
unfinished thoughts within -
there to consult once in a while
when inspiration's thin.
I return to odes once started,
and neurons re-ignite;
from efforts once halfhearted
I can gain fresh insight.
A single word might catch my eye
to percolate a thought
that makes my pen 'cross paper fly
until the verse is caught.
Thus scribbled bits I jot in haste -
disjointed lines of rhyme -
will very seldom go to waste;
they all evolve in time.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, February 21, 2018
I've come to the conclusion that most creative people - writers, poets, artists, crafters and makers of all kinds - are a bit hard on themselves. Prone to what's dubbed "artistic temperament" we're apt to feel considerable frustration when a project that we once started with great enthusiasm and high hopes just...fizzles out...
We all have that file, or that corner, or that room - the place we store our half finished creative endeavors. I used to stash away those scraps of paper, the ones that held a few lines of poetry, in furtive haste -and largely forget about them. Always a bit hard on myself, I saw those unfinished verses as a testament to my failure - failure to stay on task and see things through to completion.
While I was packing up my old house - before my big move to a small town - I found what I secretly thought of as my file of shame. And because packing was miserable work - that I needed a momentary reprieve from - I gave the contents a quick perusal.
To my amazement I was pretty excited about what I found. There was definitely food for thought among those pages, and I vowed I'd keep that file handy in the future and revisit it more often. I don't think of it as my file of failure anymore; no - now it's been re-categorized as "Inspirational Resource Material".
I keep that file in my kitchen - on the shelf with my cookbooks. It seems like the perfect spot. After all, when my tongue craves a new meal I consult those cookbooks, and if I find a recipe that appeals to me I amass the ingredients and try it out. Sometimes I re-work the recipe considerably in order to accommodate the palates of the household - and the food allergies of the husband! The completed recipe might not be what its creator intended it to be, but (generally speaking) I often manage to turn it into a reasonably good addition to my culinary repertoire.
Now my unfinished poetry file serves the same purpose as those cookbooks. I flip through it whenever my brain can't quite get a new idea off the ground. Sometimes I find exactly what I'm craving among my scattered scribblings and execute the poem exactly as I originally intended it to be. (That doesn't happen often, so when it does I feel like I've accomplished quite a creative feat and give myself a mental high five.) I've come to the conclusion that my mind just got ahead of me when that poem was started - the verse needed a bit more time to rattle around in my subconscious before it could find its way to paper.
More often, I find an old idea - or even a word or two - that triggers a whole new poem. I play around with "the ingredients" - the thoughts, ideas, or phrases - on the scrap of paper I've selected until I find a combination that suits my literary palate. And Voila! Out of the confusion of the half formed thoughts and random rhymes in my file a new poem comes to life!
So - this blog post is a big shout out to all the makers who leave things half-made. Be kind to yourself, my creative friends. Your unfinished projects are not failures! They shouldn't be kept to remind you of what you couldn't finish, but to inspire you to consider what you will finish later. Once the creative dust has settled and your brain has had a chance to work out the kinks that left you snafu-ed during that first attempt, you will be able to turn those bits into something that satisfies your creative cravings - take encouragement from a poet who has re-constructed some pretty strange lines into verses that I'm now happy with - and even proud of!
Keep those unfinished efforts handy, and re-visit them often. One day you'll surprise yourself by putting it all together - perhaps as you'd originally intended, and perhaps in some bold new way that you haven't even dreamed of - yet.
Art emerges when it's ready.
Thursday 22 February 2018
Friday 2 February 2018
Pieces of Heart - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Pieces of My Heart
If my heart's in pieces that's okay -
wouldn't want it any other way.
A heart that stays unbroken
will not ever be complete;
those pieces are the tokens
of each win and each defeat -
and for every portion that you cede,
you'll amass some pieces that you need.
Hearts strong and compassionate are built -
bits are pieced together like a quilt.
Portions doled out, cut to size,
others offered in return
'til a pattern is devised,
as you bind up seams you'll learn;
without all the pieces that you gain
just the drabbest colours would remain.
Can't regret the pieces that I lost.
Nothing worthwhile comes without a cost.
And though I've known rejection
when some offered bits were spurned -
now in my recollection
it took time before I learned:
Don't force a piece where it doesn't belong;
take care before the pattern turns out wrong.
So although I know I'll never find
remnants of my heart left far behind -
I know I'm more than content
with the new bits I've received;
now I know when love is spent
there is greater love achieved.
And I've learned I simply have to dare
to scatter my heart's pieces everywhere.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, June 2008
My heart has been fragmented for a long time, and I've lost quite a few pieces along the way. I'm not complaining though - others have shared pieces of their hearts to fill in the gaps.
Hearts swell, expand, and shatter regularly. When you find your soul-mate, you learn all about "loaves and fishes". You scrape together every bit of love you have to offer, and miraculously realize that your heart is fuller than ever before. When you hold your newborn child, your heart is so full it bursts - and your heart pieces scatter all over the place. But with every toothless smile they give, and with every stroke of a downy head you give, you discover you have more than you ever gave away. Every little bit of shared heart is magical.
I lost another little piece a few days back when I had to say good-bye to the Brazilian exchange student who lived with us for a few short months. I really didn't think it would be so difficult to give him a quick hug and put him on a bus bound for the airport - but man... I am amazed by how quickly people can find their way into my heart these days.
I am consoled by knowing that a bit of my heart lives on in a village in Brazil - and that a wonderful boy left a piece of his heart here too. It's Karma in the sweetest sense - what we give comes back to us. My heart is like a starfish - if I lose a piece here and there it will always grow back.
This isn't the first piece I've lost. I have bits of my heart scattered all over North America. A big chunk is in Alberta with the two siblings who live there. Another sizable portion is scattered across Southern Ontario with two more siblings and my mother. Still another bit lives in the Ottawa area - and a really hefty piece of my heart lives in Boston with my son and daughter in law. I function very well without those pieces because each of those people have given me some of their heart in return.
I have no regrets about the pieces of heart I lost years ago. Friends I've long since lost touch with still matter because of the experiences we shared. Ex-boyfriends enriched my life long after those relationships fizzled. They all gave me pieces of heart, and introduced me to parts of myself that I hadn't recognized previously; parts of myself that I've learned to love. Old friends who've died live on in my heart, and somewhere out there in the ether every ounce of love I gave them lives on. My long departed friends left big chunks of heart with me too. Those friendships left me forever changed for the better.
Over the years I've told a few people that I didn't intend to ever stop caring - and I didn't - because there was simply no need to. I knew I would always be able to spare a little corner of my heart, even after giving over most of that real estate to my husband, family and close friends.
The way I see it, life is too short to try to take back any of the scant amounts of love we manage to give to others. People change, relationships end, or evolve, and the nature of love changes - but there's no need to undermine memories or deny genuine feelings once felt. We can learn to hold on to good, loving feelings even after acknowledging that a relationship simply wasn't meant to be. I've been evicted from a heart or two when friendships ended - but I've never been the one to tell a friend I no longer care about them or don't want to see them again. It's natural that sometimes friendships wane, but I see no reason to summarily dismiss people from my life. The rejection hurts, but my heart is big enough to spare a dollop of kindness and wish them well.
I'm learning how gratifying it is to scatter bits of my heart farther afield. I no longer feel inclined to concentrate on loving people who are related to me, or look like me, or hold to the same ideologies that I do. I won't say that I love without conditions, but I have a shorter list of criteria than I used to. Loving others hasn't become automatic, but the process of learning to give and accept love has grown swifter. My tendency is still to proceed with caution, but at least I'm moving in the right direction.
Age and maturity grant us increasing ability to love generously. We begin to understand that the exchanges aren't always equitable. Sometimes we'll give more; sometimes we'll get more. Sometimes we'll give and give and get nothing in return. When we were younger, we wasted a lot more time complaining about who gave or received more, but age grants us enough grace to spend less time quibbling. We learn to see that small scraps and bits can be useful to bind up the seams of our lives. Nothing we give - or get - is ever wasted.
The fabric of our hearts continues to increase no matter how many bits we share. The pattern grows brighter and more intricate as we integrate every new bit we're given into an ever-evolving design. And the pieces we scatter become part of other quilts and tapestries. They add warmth, texture and colour to every life they touch.
So if I offer you a scrap or two, take it. And if you have a bit to share in return I'll find a place for it. Maybe someday we'll all have little pieces of our hearts scattered all over the world...
Can you imagine how beautiful the world would be if we sewed them all together?
If my heart's in pieces that's okay -
wouldn't want it any other way.
A heart that stays unbroken
will not ever be complete;
those pieces are the tokens
of each win and each defeat -
and for every portion that you cede,
you'll amass some pieces that you need.
Hearts strong and compassionate are built -
bits are pieced together like a quilt.
Portions doled out, cut to size,
others offered in return
'til a pattern is devised,
as you bind up seams you'll learn;
without all the pieces that you gain
just the drabbest colours would remain.
Can't regret the pieces that I lost.
Nothing worthwhile comes without a cost.
And though I've known rejection
when some offered bits were spurned -
now in my recollection
it took time before I learned:
Don't force a piece where it doesn't belong;
take care before the pattern turns out wrong.
So although I know I'll never find
remnants of my heart left far behind -
I know I'm more than content
with the new bits I've received;
now I know when love is spent
there is greater love achieved.
And I've learned I simply have to dare
to scatter my heart's pieces everywhere.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, June 2008
My heart has been fragmented for a long time, and I've lost quite a few pieces along the way. I'm not complaining though - others have shared pieces of their hearts to fill in the gaps.
Hearts swell, expand, and shatter regularly. When you find your soul-mate, you learn all about "loaves and fishes". You scrape together every bit of love you have to offer, and miraculously realize that your heart is fuller than ever before. When you hold your newborn child, your heart is so full it bursts - and your heart pieces scatter all over the place. But with every toothless smile they give, and with every stroke of a downy head you give, you discover you have more than you ever gave away. Every little bit of shared heart is magical.
I lost another little piece a few days back when I had to say good-bye to the Brazilian exchange student who lived with us for a few short months. I really didn't think it would be so difficult to give him a quick hug and put him on a bus bound for the airport - but man... I am amazed by how quickly people can find their way into my heart these days.
I am consoled by knowing that a bit of my heart lives on in a village in Brazil - and that a wonderful boy left a piece of his heart here too. It's Karma in the sweetest sense - what we give comes back to us. My heart is like a starfish - if I lose a piece here and there it will always grow back.
This isn't the first piece I've lost. I have bits of my heart scattered all over North America. A big chunk is in Alberta with the two siblings who live there. Another sizable portion is scattered across Southern Ontario with two more siblings and my mother. Still another bit lives in the Ottawa area - and a really hefty piece of my heart lives in Boston with my son and daughter in law. I function very well without those pieces because each of those people have given me some of their heart in return.
I have no regrets about the pieces of heart I lost years ago. Friends I've long since lost touch with still matter because of the experiences we shared. Ex-boyfriends enriched my life long after those relationships fizzled. They all gave me pieces of heart, and introduced me to parts of myself that I hadn't recognized previously; parts of myself that I've learned to love. Old friends who've died live on in my heart, and somewhere out there in the ether every ounce of love I gave them lives on. My long departed friends left big chunks of heart with me too. Those friendships left me forever changed for the better.
Over the years I've told a few people that I didn't intend to ever stop caring - and I didn't - because there was simply no need to. I knew I would always be able to spare a little corner of my heart, even after giving over most of that real estate to my husband, family and close friends.
The way I see it, life is too short to try to take back any of the scant amounts of love we manage to give to others. People change, relationships end, or evolve, and the nature of love changes - but there's no need to undermine memories or deny genuine feelings once felt. We can learn to hold on to good, loving feelings even after acknowledging that a relationship simply wasn't meant to be. I've been evicted from a heart or two when friendships ended - but I've never been the one to tell a friend I no longer care about them or don't want to see them again. It's natural that sometimes friendships wane, but I see no reason to summarily dismiss people from my life. The rejection hurts, but my heart is big enough to spare a dollop of kindness and wish them well.
I'm learning how gratifying it is to scatter bits of my heart farther afield. I no longer feel inclined to concentrate on loving people who are related to me, or look like me, or hold to the same ideologies that I do. I won't say that I love without conditions, but I have a shorter list of criteria than I used to. Loving others hasn't become automatic, but the process of learning to give and accept love has grown swifter. My tendency is still to proceed with caution, but at least I'm moving in the right direction.
Age and maturity grant us increasing ability to love generously. We begin to understand that the exchanges aren't always equitable. Sometimes we'll give more; sometimes we'll get more. Sometimes we'll give and give and get nothing in return. When we were younger, we wasted a lot more time complaining about who gave or received more, but age grants us enough grace to spend less time quibbling. We learn to see that small scraps and bits can be useful to bind up the seams of our lives. Nothing we give - or get - is ever wasted.
The fabric of our hearts continues to increase no matter how many bits we share. The pattern grows brighter and more intricate as we integrate every new bit we're given into an ever-evolving design. And the pieces we scatter become part of other quilts and tapestries. They add warmth, texture and colour to every life they touch.
So if I offer you a scrap or two, take it. And if you have a bit to share in return I'll find a place for it. Maybe someday we'll all have little pieces of our hearts scattered all over the world...
Can you imagine how beautiful the world would be if we sewed them all together?
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