I spent a couple hours this week thinking with a friend about how kids (and adults) decide what to do–where to go to college? What to do for a living? I reminded me of David Whyte’s work.
Lapoesia (Poem), as David Whyte points out in a Heart Aroused, goes to the heart of calling. It begins in the unknown and honors the reflective and intuitive. The willingness to choose, even to appear foolish, opens to community and joy (and melodrama…sorry I’m a sucker for like big gushing endings).
And it was at the age…Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not voice, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
likeness, image of
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.