Exasperating Joy
Day 14: One Month of Magic
Yes, it’s our old friend, Joy, again. Today we will dip our toes back into the pool of pleasure to examine our relationship with it. To exasperate its possibilities.
Last week, we wrote about the things, big and small, that bring us joy. Today, I want you to think about something you dread or dislike—then think about how it can bring you joy. Hate doing the dishes? Me too! How can we write about it in a way that allows us to see the joy and beauty of this sudsy ritual?
Like magic, joy is not spontaneous. It is a choice, a decision we make daily, to commit to a mindset where we are on the receiving end of inspiration and gratitude. If we can see the light in even the dullest, darkest hallways, we will always find a door.
Read “Praise” by Kelli Russell Agodon. Thanks
for introducing me to this poem!Praise
Kelli Russell Agodon
Find me wild about stir-fry, about red velvet
sofas and the people who sleep inside books
and dream about commas. We are flooded
with forgetfulness, with fallen plum blossoms
misspelling our names on the driveway. Praise
our too many expectations, how we overestimate
the weather, each other, overestimate how deer
will appear if we arrive with food. Because reality
can be a knife, we sometimes ache to tear open
the tea bag, the ketchup packet, because wine
arrives ready to be poured, we are foolish
and happy—though our clothes do not fit,
we return to being alive and living
between roadblocks and detours, driving
our fingers into the edge of each other’s
pockets. Praise the bare trees that tried
to spell our names for their belief
they could—spells and misspellings,
fail and fail better, how lucky we are
just to be here, both of us touching each other
through these words, with all this exasperating joy.
Prompt: Write a poem in which you exasperate joy. Assign joy to one (or more) of the most aching or annoying parts of your life. How can you change the way you look at this situation? How do you react? How can you write loud joy into the moment? How does the presence of joy change how you witness your own life?
Here is a non-traditional shakespearian / Italian sonnet (octet is shakespearian rhyme scheme; sestet is Italian rhyme scheme, all metrical rules broken). I wrote it about a year ago, after a week of >11 hour days, about about excessive overtime. I liked it enough that I revised it a bit and have even included it in some submission packets (no takers, lol). I thought of it in response to this prompt. Any thoughts on it would be welcome. I'm okay with being told it's not the prize-winning poem I think it might be, lol :)
Letter To A Route Named 2C
—confession of a UPS driver
You curve and dip among redwoods, show me slivers
of Pacific, of San Francisco Bay. Your fog weeps through needles, thick
and wild. Your dogs’ tails wag at gates and I deliver
treats to tongues. Your storms uproot your trees and slick
your driveways muddy. Your long roads curve to dead
ends backdropped by specks of breakers. Your calves slip under
their mamas’ bellies to watch me drive. Your sunset blisters red
among clouds. I love you when you encumber
me with too much of you. When muscles burn
with every stop. When curves darken. When boxes jumble
on shelves like pain. When I punch
the clock at nine at night. I fist bump coworkers who taught me turns
and numbers. Where to park to pick up fallen pieces. I fumble
my love. I love to touch things other hands have touched.