I’ll admit it. I love Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I sing along to ‘We Are Santa’s Elves,’ ‘Silver and Gold,’ and Clarice’s song to Rudolph, ‘There’s Always Tomorrow.’
The society Rudolph is born into is unforgiving to say the least. The North Pole is not for the faint of heart. Conformity isn’t optional.
Rudolph is rejected by nearly everyone around him: his father, his girlfriend’s father, his sleigh team coach, his peers, and yes, even Santa Claus. All because of his red nose, an innate characteristic which the narrator calls Rudolph’s “non-conformity.”
The rejection and ridicule is so intense that Rudolph sees no choice but to leave home. And unlike many of us, he doesn't walk down the block, come to his senses, and turn back around.
Rudolph goes into the barrenness of the North Pole. Into the cold, unknown world of the Abominable Snow Monster.
It is in this barren landscape that Rudolph meets other non-conformists: Hermey, a frustrated elf whose true passion is dentistry, and Yukon Cornelius, a silver and gold prospector who seems to have wandered slightly off course.
None of them fit into the place they are in. Each is on a journey of self-discovery.
The poet Li-Young Lee proposes that each of us has a composite self and a prime self. Our composite self is composed of external influences such as society and culture. Our prime self, on the other hand, is the part of ourselves that is absolutely unique; it is not divisible by anything or anyone.
Both selves are crucial to our well-being. We need community and family, just as these things need us. We also need to understand who we are at our deepest level, which Lee calls the level of the unknown.
The characters in Rudolph have decided to sacrifice everything for the sake of pursuing and protecting their deepest, most unique interests. They even work together to fend off the Abominable Snow Monster and, thereby save Rudolph’s family, the same folks whose rejection forced him to leave home in the first place.
Lee says that art and poetry speak to the prime self in each of us. It is where the artist/poet in us lives. When we are in touch with the unknown we are open to all that artistic and poetic expression have to teach us.
Let’s face it, artists are a different breed, and Rudolph and his friends are artists in their own way. Each of them is a misfit who undertakes both an inward and outward journey.
The redeeming quality of these artists in Rudolph is that first, they have the courage to make the journey to connect with their prime selves. Second, they return to their community, not just with a better understanding of who they are and their place in the world, but with a gift to share. Rudolph guides Santa’s sleigh through a nasty storm and saves Christmas. Hermey offers to care for the teeth of his abusive boss. Yukon risks life and limb, not only to tame the Abominable, but to incorporate him into the larger community that had feared him so much. Yes, even a snow monster has a place in the world of an artist.
I believe that each of us is an artist. We each have an unknown, prime self that is waiting to be discovered.
For me, writing poetry connects me with my prime self. With my inner misfit. Writing poetry is like journeying into the unknown, getting lost, arriving at some realization or truth, and making my way out to the other side.
Just as important though, is returning to the world of the composite self, whether it be to our families, workplaces, neighborhoods, or even Santa’s castle at the North Pole, more fully aware, more fully realized, ready to share ourselves and our gifts with those around us.
Write what you know.
I have taken this maxim to heart when writing and publishing poetry. But, when people ask me what kind of poetry I write, I have to stop and think.
Regular, everyday poetry?
A lot of my poems are about childhood memories that pop into my head while walking the dog.
I guess I would call it confessional. Or narrative free verse.
I write about how my father used to balance an almost empty glass ketchup bottle (before plastic squeeze bottles) onto a new ketchup bottle to salvage the last slug of ketchup from the old bottle.
I write about how my mother prayed with me toward the end of a basketball season in the hopes that I would just score a basket.
I write about my high school geometry class, how my parents met, and my wife and I installing a faucet in the kitchen sink.
The past 2 years, I have led a poetry workshop with the poets Tara Lynne Groth and Bartholomew Barker, at the Holly Springs (NC) Cultural Center. Tara Lynne and Bart are experts at using prompts such as old post cards with actual messages written on the back, and 12-sided (or, if you prefer, dodecahedra) dice to prompt the audience to write about a particular month. Their prompts always get my poetic juices flowing.
For me, I have the audience think back on significant (or less significant, but memorable) moments in their lives. I will share the details of this in a future post, but suffice it to say, there is a wealth of material in our personal histories. This is where I often go for my poems and the good news is that this store of ideas is growing every day.
So, if you find yourself racking your brain for poetic subject matter, you may be, as the mythologist Joseph Campbell said, standing on a whale fishing for minnows.
Just write what you know.