When validation comes from within
I wake early and busy myself with packing a bag, fussing over a layered outfit – Melbourne’s weather can be more volatile than home – then anxiously sift through old writings in an attempt to reassure myself that I have at least a semblance of know-how, worthy of the weekend ahead.
I walk through St Kilda Gardens, past old homes, bathing in the familiar and listening with reverence to ‘The Facts of Life’ reminding myself: I might as well love, I might as well love, I might as well love.
A dear friend of mine, Waihi multi-disciplinary artist, Theresa Brumder, always passionately introduces me as a ‘poetess’ to new connections and I shrink every time. In humble gratitude that she sees me so, and with the weight of expectation of an artist’s title. It seems a clear validation then, that the news of a scholarship offered to attend the esteemed Pádraig Ó Tuama’s poetry retreat in Melbourne, came while in Theresa’s company.
“I told you you’re a poet!” She laughed at my tears of unbelieving joy.
Even so, validation eludes me as I awkwardly fill the Australian customs card, scribbling multiple titles as my occupation. My lack of worth in the world without a ‘career’ title screams at me and I print something painstakingly vague – HOSPO / IN ARTS / TEACHING. (?? Sorry, I don’t have an occupation, ha!)
Of course, I’m travelling from NZ; the officer barely glances at me or my card.
I arrive 10 minutes before entry time and meet the smattering of other attendees eagerly loitering at the gate. Kate, rosy cheeked with bright kind eyes, has travelled interstate as has Mark, youthful enthusiasm and wide smile calming the feeling of being out of my depth.
We step into the venerable old building, marvelling at the history and hospitality of the place as the crowd gathers, finding name tags, cups of tea, gingerly choosing a seat in the large conference room.
Lovingly set up with cushions, tissue boxes (well used by the end), pencils and notebooks for our use, this room is our home for the weekend, and we settle in at the chimes call amongst the delicate vases of hyacinth and a sweet heady scent of incense burning … the anticipation palpable.
Padraig’s presence is distinct. As an acclaimed author, poet, theologian and conflict resolution facilitator, among many other things, Pádraig’s work has accompanied me for many years, and I am overwhelmed by awe. And my self-doubt. I fear the academy will regret giving me the scholarship. I fear reading my work aloud for its amateur immaturity. Pádraig immediately quashes my impostor however, by announcing “Comparison is a cancer” in his lilting Irish accent and asks us to simply be kind and honest with ourselves as we write this weekend. We should know our wonderful line may not surface, not this weekend, not this year even, but it will come, as long as we know we are seeking it.
I am reminded of Rilke’s ‘Letters to a Young Poet’ where he states that knowing if you should pursue writing or not, comes from knowing if you must. If you must be an artist, you are an artist.
I open. I accept my ability and the fact I have much to learn and, slowly, I feel I belong here. The days in company with fellow writers are a beautiful, contemplative time. We explore connection and the space between us, as we learn, write, cry, laugh, share and debate, the intricate, all-encompassing world of poetry, our conduit.
In closing, someone names me in thanks for my openness and I find, not for the first time, I can give myself permission to weep, to speak and to open with the group, turning again my dark guilt, self-doubt and vulnerability into my great gift of authentic expression.
I didn’t write anything wonderful during the retreat; however, returning home to Aotearoa, brimming with inspiration and a calm acceptance of my art and its ever-evolving purpose, I filled in my customs card, under ‘occupation’ printing clearly, ARTIST.
https://onbeing.org/poetry/the-facts-of-life/
Photos credit – Jo Yeldham – Small Giants Academy, St Kilda, Naarm
Words by Milly Moon
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