May These Words Bring Worlds
To inspire means to breathe in, to inhale. We are of common breath and purpose.
I am inspired by your existence.
There are many deities crowded into your flesh trying to get a glimpse of the world through your eyes. Upon meeting some of you I have felt them crowd into my being, sometimes elbowing and jabbing each other for a momentary glimpse of you through mine.
I see your beauty and reflect it.
I honor the GOD in you and pray that your prayers be answered in kisses.
-Saul Williams in …said the shotgun to the head.
Even in the acknowledgements section his beautiful way of transforming words into art shines through, poetry to its spiritual core.
There are a few things in my life that I feel the Universe was intent on injecting into my life to leave an indelible impression and shift me onto a different path. Philip Pulman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, a particular Celtic Knot, constellations, and most recently gnomes are featured on this list, as is Charles Bukowski’s You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense and the aforementioned …said the shotgun.
Both Bukowski’s collection of poetry and William’s poem were brought into my existence during the winter of 2005 in the town of my birth, Ann Arbor, Michigan. During a rare block of free time during the debate tournament, my partner and I wandered into town and entered the second floor of some hippie-esque shop. Aside from the wildly 70’s themed products, incense/candles, etc. there was a couple of shelves lined with books- some feeling used, some unopened, and only one copy of each. I, characteristically, arrived at this book shelf after perusing the rest of the store and applaud myself for this fulfilled tendency.
Now at this time I was 15 years old and full of all the typical teenager angst, so it’s unsurprising that the decidedly emo titles caught my attention. But what lingered with me was not the melancholy of the titles, but rather certain phrases within the books. For instance, I vividly recall standing under that florescent light holding the red book open to page 92 (I also remembered the exact number) and reading a phrase that resonated with the idealist romantic within me and would echo in my mind even six years later:
sorcery of self:
a phrase i coined
and now surrender to you
it’s as if i’ve swallowed
an interior decorator
i like my heart where it is
The simplicity was overwhelming. I lacked any context pertaining to what the first two stanzas on the page mean exactly, but the tone and elegance of the language was undeniable.
That last line of words on the page opened worlds to me.
The mood brought to mind- of being content with the literal, physical location of your heart and the object of your affection- was powerful. This notion of “not thinking you’re someone else somewhere else” (as Faunia states it in The Human Stain while explaining what existence is about) or desiring a different reality to fulfill your heart is one that has persisted with me.
I ultimately only want to like my heart where it is.
Somewhere I scribbled down the poem’s title along with Bukowski’s collection and ordered them online some time later. And as Williams intended, his words did indeed bring me worlds- notably when nearly two years later, in 2007, my love for this work provided material for discussion in my interview for Governor’s Honors Program (GHP). Once accepted I spent six of the most wonderful weeks with a group of now life-long friends studying more wordy sources of inspiration and growth.
To whatever forces that may or may not exist out there, propelling our lives by means as simple as inserting symbols or messages only recognized through active awareness: Thanks.
