Self-Discovery

A couple of days ago, I mentioned a post on Substack from someone unknown to me named Dr. Jennifer Weber:

“Most people read to confirm their existing beliefs.  A few read to challenge it. Almost nobody reads to replace it.

Thinking without reading is guessing.  Reading without thinking is memorizing.”
 
I responded with, “Interesting. And reading poetry…?  (say like Dickinson?), and then – in reply to a different person who had asked me, “How are ‘reading’ and ‘reading poetry’ different?” I included this statement:
“I stumbled upon a poem last week that I’m still trying to figure out – did it ‘confirm my existing beliefs’ – or rattle them?”  (FYI: More about this exchange can be found HERE.)

Today I thought I’d share the poem that I found quite jarring.

Here’s the story:

Some of my posts throughout early August focused on Dickinson-related books and anthologies I found in a public library during a summer beach trip to Cape Charles, Virginia.

Then, when schools in our area opened and I started substitute teaching again, I was in a middle school library where I wondered what Dickinson books – or anthologies with Dickinson poetry – the school might have.  There were a few, and I’ll share some of what I found in future posts; however, on that day I pulled from the shelves a small book entitled “How I Discovered Poetry,” by Marilyn Nelson. 

I discovered poetry – including the poetry of Emily Dickinson – when I was in middle school (thank you, Mrs. Nader) so I assumed this book would tell the story of how this author was turned on to poetry.  I wondered if the book included an index with a list of poets whom the author studied and/or admired. 

I flipped to the back of the book.  There was no index; however, I happened to open to page 97 with the penultimate an eponymous poem, “How I discovered poetry.”

It was then I realized the book was comprised of poems by Ms. Nelson that told her story, and yes, like my story, it happened at school (was it a middle school?); and yes, she could remember the teacher’s name (Ms. Purdy); and yes, she could recall the thrill and passion of the moment (“It was like soul-kissing, the way the words / filled my mouth”); and yes, she even rattled off allusions to poems she must have heard (“but Ms. Purdy and I wandered lonely as clouds borne / by a breeze off Mount Parnassus”); and yes, I kept reading.

I kept reading and thought, “What is going on here?”

That night I responded to Dr. Weber’s comments on Substack and later commented, “I stumbled upon a poem last week that I’m still trying to figure out – did it ‘confirm my existing beliefs’ – or rattle them?”

More on all of this tomorrow.