‘Through discipline comes freedom.’ (Aristotle)

 

‘Oh, every poet knows that!’ I thought at first, seeing this presented as a writing prompt.

But I dunno. It’s true that constraints, such as the strictures of particular forms, can lead to better ways of saying things than one might have found without them – but that’s not quite the same thing as freedom.

It’s true, as poets know, that so-called ‘free verse’ isn’t really free. It has its own requirements, which must be taken into account; it isn’t just chopped-up prose. Sometimes it’s even harder work than formal poetry.

When it comes to the whole of life, it’s the same: there’s no real freedom – not big, overall, absolute freedom. We have some degree of freedom, depending on the legal system where we live. It’s true that the discipline of staying within the law allows for the freedom to live our lives without hindrance – well, except for the hindrances of poverty, social class, health problems, natural disasters, wars, the criminal actions of those who break the laws…. But mostly we can go about our business fairly freely because of the imposed discipline of the law.

We internalise this from an early age, with the help of parents and teachers, so it becomes self-discipline. We just don’t do things we’ve been taught we shouldn’t. (Until we do. Temptations happen to us all. Small infractions we may even get away with, though it’s not guaranteed.)

So freedom is limited, by social agreement. But within that agreement, self-discipline (one might argue) is what gives us our freedom.

Nah! Me, I’m exceedingly undisciplined. I don’t break laws but I lack self-discipline. I just spent most of two days listening to an audio book.*

What gave me this freedom? Old age.

I get the Age Pension. I don’t have to work. 

There are things I need to do, such as household jobs (but the heavy ones are done for me via an agency) and book marketing (but I can defer that for a day or two).

What about lack of exercise limiting my health? Hey, I walk around the house. Anyway, lifelong athletes often end up as unfit as sedentaries like me, if in different ways.

Truly, what freedom I have lives in self-indulgence.

Written for Friday Writings #115 at Poets and  Storytellers United.

Form: essay.  OK, that's not a poetic form nor is this a poem. I gave myself a year to play with poetic forms, but this month I and many others are practising haiku and/or senryu every day, to prompts, for NaHaiWriMo ...  and I thought it was a long time since I wrote an essay. Given our P&SU word limit of 369, I guess you could call it a mini-essay.

* The Other Bennett Sister [i.e.Mary Bennett] by Jane Hadlow.

LONG! Over 18 hours! (I love a good long read. Or in this case a listen.) Also she gets the Austen tone and language down perfectly, and includes some wonderful tongue-in-cheek literary and other allusions, as well as telling an enthralling tale.

A tanka challenge ...

 

a tanka challenge

for Valentine’s Day: ‘write on 

not being in love’ –

but I'm never not in love

(albeit there's no-one new)

Form: tanka

I'm sharing this with Poets and Storytellers United at Friday Writings #114.

How to Be Social Whilst Being a Hermit

 

I don’t feel like an elderly widow, not on the inside, but I am an elderly widow. I’m not housebound –  still drive my car, though mostly just around our little town; still eat out with my pals; visit the art gallery; shop; attend writers’ events … but I’m an introvert, liking my own company (and that of my cat) so I don’t go out much. Also, being a writer keeps me at my desk for hours.

When Andrew became more and more impaired, and eventually died, I was his carer. As his loving wife, I was happy to do what I could, but it kept me mostly at home.

Also we’d moved away from the city where we lived for decades, to come here to this small sub-tropical town, leaving behind family, old friends, colleagues.

For all these reasons I love social media! I still mourn the destruction of MySpace, where I met international poets and amazing strong women of my own vintage – but most of us migrated to facebook, where in time lots of Aussie poets also found me. Facebook keeps me in touch with far-flung friends and relatives, and poets and other writers all over the world.

I enjoyed twitter in its early days, and was one of the first tweetpoets, writing to the demands of the platform. But twitter quickly turned into something I couldn’t be bothered with, so I let that one go. I’ve now embraced Instagram, the visual medium where I can have fun with images, and also post screen-shots of poems.

These are places where I enjoy what others post, too. Instagram, for instance, has the most wondrous nature photography.

Now I’ve signed up for a course on using TikTok for book marketing. I’ve never used TikTok, so the idea is daunting but also exciting. I just want to get a tripod first, for my phone camera. Wow, me make videos – that’s a new departure!

Because I’m an elderly widow living alone, social media’s a great blessing to me. It saves me from all the loneliness and disconnection my mother felt, when she was an elderly widow living alone.

on facebook, even

my very private brother –

wonders will never …

Form: haibun.

Written for Friday Writings #113: Modern Marvel at Poets and Storytellers United.

Old Age: a Silver Lining

 

Eighty-four,

and not yet ready

to be gone –

but, with luck,

I'll pre-decease the looming

end of our planet.

Form: shadorma

Written for Friday Writings #112: Silver lining, at Poets and Storytellers United.