When I was in graduate school, it felt like… it felt like we were pioneers, at the edge of the world. We were studying poetry. Definitely not in the majority. That we came together for this and it felt holy.
I remember one seminar in particular with poet James Galvin and in the class we looked at the work of James Wright, John Ashbery and James Merrill.
It was the feeling of uncovering mysteries and of being in the same sinking boat. Fucked. The poetry boat. That even if some of us went on to poetry careers (some did. I didn’t), that we were still… weird. In love with this weird stuff that mattered so much to us but not to the rest of the world, so it seemed.
The rest of the world was more concerned with… politics, making a difference, and making money. We, on the other hand, were reading and writing poems. (And I would argue that we were making a difference, like a cosmic feng shui.)
And that feeling is what I sometimes feel in the class that I’m doing. Not that I was planning it or searching for it, but that I feel the discovery and mystery and tenderness and the sacredness of each life in the class, each individual passage.
Courage and Creativity: that’s what I’ve renamed our little group because most of us are realizing that still small voice inside is often one of fear or dread more than 3 of Cups celebration or 4 of Wands joy.
The other night one of the young women had an insight so profound it gave me chills. I thought to myself and I said out loud: THIS is why we are here. This is why we are doing this. For THIS insight.
What about you? And your 5th House? And the nature of your creativity? And your ability to manifest a life that resembles at least one ideal that you’ve imagined and dreamed of.
You can start your analysis with the planets in your 5th, if you have any. Or you can start with the sign and ruling planet on the cusp.
I’ve got Capricorn there. Saturn. Serious. The greatest gift for me is to find people who can really make me laugh. The 5th House LAUGHS.