Heroes Not Zombies

I’ve started a daily habit of reading some poetry. I’m doing this for two reasons. First, because I enjoy poetry, and, second, because poetry activates the right hemisphere of the brain, and I think we all need to do something to reset the imbalance between our cerebral hemispheres.

Since moving to rural France I’ve encountered the natural world close up much, much more frequently than at any other time of my life, so it seems obvious that I should start this new practice with some nature poets. I’ve chosen William Wordsworth and John Clare.

We were exposed to a little Wordsworth at school….well, daffodils, you know, as I suspect you were too. But it didn’t click. And John Clare? I don’t think we read any of his poems at school.

In my first few days of this practice I’m immediately struck by how often Wordsworth conjures up sounds and music in poetry. Here’s an example…

Or gaze upon the moon until its light/fell like a strain of music on his soul/and seemed to sink into his very heart.

Isn’t that lovely? It conjures up an image, music, and spiritual feelings all at once.

I’m happy to just read a verse like that a let it do its work, as it, like the strain of music he describes, sinks into my “very heart”.

But I’m also struck by how he uses both “soul” and “heart” in the same phrase. They aren’t completely interchangeable terms but they both refer to something deep, and invisible, and important, within us. Something which can’t be observed from outside, which can’t be measured, but which, I would argue, is essential for a good, full life.