#81: Words that burn bright

How poetry changed my life

Hey friends,

This missive is a little different from usual.

I had a whole post planned, but then found out Andrea Gibson (they/them) left this world on Monday morning. I'm not sure anyone I've never met has changed my life more, or given me hope or a reason to keep going when my own well had run dry.

I feel like photos can be poetry, sometimes, too.

Recently, I’ve found myself stumbling upon links to articles and studies talking about how they can now diagnose Alzheimer’s in people in their 20s. Thanks to my family history, I already know there’s a high chance I could have it, too.

I was thinking about what it would be like to know, and whether I’d want to. Right now, I don’t. But, the idea that I might has made me more determined than ever to finish writing my book while I still can.

I’ve written before about all the ideas of legacy and what we leave behind, but reading the words of someone who was diagnosed with terminal cancer - and the way it cracked them open - has been utterly transformative for my battered heart these past few years.

What I know about living is
that the pain is never just ours.
Every time I hurt I know the
wound is an echo, so I keep
listening for the moment the
grief becomes a window, when I
can see what I couldn’t see
before.

—Andrea Gibson

I discovered them a few years back, around the same time my life felt like it had peaked and troughed, and I was a burning fire of grief and guilt and rage that felt like it had nowhere to go but to burn a hole right through me.

I tend not to dwell on that season. I don't think I've ever written about it here. But it was a rough one. There was so much pain and suffering and paperwork and stress. Every day, the light at the end of the tunnel felt like it kept moving further away.

At the time, I was writing poetry. A lot. I couldn't wrangle my words into prose that made any sense at all, but it flowed like a river into poems.

Poetry - whether I was reading it or writing it - helped me fall back in love with life and the world. It helped me get out of bed every day, to notice the beauty around me, and to feel grateful for what I had, rather than lamenting what I didn't.

Poets like Andrea Gibson, James Baldwin, Mary Oliver, Nikita Gill, and Victoria Erickson all paved the way.

After spending almost my entire life savings on an application to stay in a country I’d only ever intended to visit temporarily, I spent the rest on a poetry immersion with the latter. Mostly thanks to one poem, which held me tenderly when the place I’d called paradise vanished before my eyes:

“Paradise has never
been about places.
It exists in
moments. In
connection. In
flashes across
time”

—Victoria Erickson

The more I wrote poetry, the more enamoured I became with it. The more I found my words within it, the more comfort I found in the words of others.

I loved the way people played with form and style, with sentence breaks. I loved how it didn’t have to obey rules. That grammar - my nemesis - didn’t matter as much, as long as it flowed.

Ever since my best friend died, I’ve been obsessed with the idea of legacy, but I loved how writing poetry felt like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs back to who I was at the time.

Finding pretty places to write helped make my shitty season a tiny bit less shit.

A poem I wrote, many moons ago.

To be human
is to step into a
world of possibility
filled with daggers
and dreams

To walk in the
footprints of
those who came
before and those
who will follow

And to live as
best we can until
the moment comes
to close our eyes
one last time

On Monday - the day Andrea Gibson passed - I had a call with one of my mum’s best friends. She’s a poet and a bibliotherapist, and although I hadn’t seen her in 25+ years, her name kept coming up while I was researching academic studies on writing for wellbeing for a workshop proposal.

It sounds kind of silly to write aloud, but it felt like a nod from my mum - who is between worlds these days - that I’m heading in the right direction.

It was also really nice to catch up with someone who not only understands the grief of losing her, but the magical healing powers of words - and how they can help us live on.

It almost feels like whether the proposal and the workshops work out or not doesn’t matter as much anymore. Like they’ve already played their part by both showing me my potential and leading me to reconnect with Vicky, who told me she loved my words and that my mum had forwarded her all my letters for years.

I’m also grateful that all of this led me to reconnect with a younger version of me - the one who spent the last of her savings on a poetry immersion because she knew it would change her life - and to read her words, and to fall back in love with her all over again.

To look back and see that hole I burned right through myself was a portal to something bigger. Something better. Something far more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

Me then. Me now.

To end, I wanted to share Andrea Gibson’s “five counterintuitive mental health tips that changed [their] life” - and mine:

1. If you want to feel less fear, if you want less anxiety, stop trying to keep yourself safe. Stop chronically trying to protect yourself.
   

2. If you want to be happier, wholeheartedly welcome your grief.
   

3. If you feel like your life is lacking something, if you’re struggling to feel abundant, put your attention in what you have to give.
   

4. If you’re feeling out of control, stop trying to control things.
   

5. If you’re struggling to feel loved, if you’re feeling unloved, love. Just love love love love.

And lastly, I also wanted to extend an invitation to you to join us in the Lemonade Factory for a co-creating call tomorrow. It’s at 10 am BST. We’ll spend an hour(ish) working on our own creations, and then have some time to chat.

Alternatively, if you prefer writing to prompts and sharing, we also have our monthly writing circle next Friday. That one is at 12pm BST.

To join, you just need to upgrade your membership to the monthly/annual paid tier. No bells or whistles or snazzy things required.

Sending you so much love,

Cassie x

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PS: Our next Lemonade Factory community co-writing call is tomorrow - Thursday 17th - at 10am BST. If you’re feeling drawn to spending more time in creative community, we’d love to have you. Find out more here.

Alternatively, if you’d like to support me or work with me more closely, you can:

• Join me for a 1:1 creative mentoring call where we can talk about all of this and more.

• Support my work via a paid membership, buying me a coffee, or by liking and sharing this post.

• Follow along on Instagram or leave a comment to say hi.