My whole life I have been labeled:
Granted, some of those instances I really was just being a pain in the butt. However, a discussion I had in my M.F.A. poetry workshop tonight helped me see myself in a new light. Perhaps this hypersensitivity is a positive quality in my life and not something I should wish to brush under the doormat.
Writers, and poets more specifically, are keen observers, sensitive to the world around them, aware, and not asleep. This is not some fancy way of saying, “ all poets are super emotional.” Instead it is the highest compliment (which, yes, I am indulging in giving myself as a poet). Poets, as discussed in class, are watchers of the world, unafraid to point out the injustices, inconsistencies, and oddities. When most can turn a blind eye and deaf ear to an issue for “convenience” or “comfort” it is the poets sensitivity that will force those issues onto the page until they are heard loud and clear, their words perhaps opening the blind eyes and deaf ears. If I may be so bold as to use this verb, they must endure this sensitivity so that they can be watchtowers for society.
Poets are unafraid of asking questions of the ineffable, pushing beyond even what language can express. They can push beyond mortality, ask questions that stir souls, and baffle readers with an entire experience in a few words.
I’ll stop this self-congratulating now and commission writers out there:
Accept this sensitivity as a gift…
Push boundaries farther than you feel comfortable with…
Watch the world around you with everything you have….
Write the truth; write with complete presence of mind heart and soul…
It feels good to find a niche, to realize my personality plays into something I love. So from now on I am going to try and embrace my hypersensitivity and be happy to be a watcher and feeler of the world around me to the fullest extent.
Merry cheer and light,