Opinion: 17 syllables a day that will change your life

Editor’s note: Tess Taylor He is the author of five books of poetry, including Work & Days and Rift Zone.She is an anthology editor “Leaning towards the light: A poem for gardens and the hands that tend them.”.The views expressed here are her own.read more opinions On CNN.

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For me, writing haiku every day started as a practice on my birthday in October 2022. It was a tough fall. While we were all moving forward through the most difficult days of the pandemic, my life as I knew it was upended. My husband and I and our children, ages 5 and 9 at the time, were always together at home. My son attended Zoom school with his podmates under a sun tent in the driveway. My daughter, a kindergartener, was attending a temporary outdoor school, but it was canceled every time there was a fire. In fact, the fall of 2021 saw a number of horrific fires in California.

It was a difficult and anxious day. I felt self-conscious and overwhelmed with grief. And I struggled to make sense of the days. Exhausted and drained, I felt drained, angry, numb, and foggy.

As my birthday approached in the fall of that year, the idea of ​​writing a haiku every day was just a way of promising myself that on that day, I would make sure to note just one thing, hahaha. . No matter what day it was, I was sure I would find a way to write down a sentence of about 17 syllables.

I decided that I was less interested in the idea of ​​counting syllables accurately than in the descriptions of haiku that I had read in the prefaces of some great haiku translations by poet Robert Hass. I drew this year’s or the tilt of the light, and the image of that day.

Below are some examples by Basho.

Autumn moonlight――
Insects silently dig holes
Inside the chestnut.

caterpillar,
The depth of this autumn――
Not a butterfly yet.

The sea becomes dark.
wild duck voice
It is faintly white.

Using this Basho-style model as a guide, I set out on an adventure. It rained on the first day. The next day, the first sprouts of the year arrived in the vacant lot behind my house. The air smelled like wild fennel. I noticed the reflection of the local church steeple in the still pool of water. I noticed the silence after the rain.

The challenge of noticing something, no matter how small, is often improved by small things that helped me. I wrote about horsetail clouds at dawn. I wrote about the rattle of a midnight storm. In moments like these, I just tried to be observant and curious. Little by little, my haiku practice seemed to be helping me create space to get through these difficult weeks, giving me just a little time each day for imagination, observation, and kindness.

When I began writing a column about poetry here at CNN in January 2023, after a difficult year, I encouraged readers to explore this practice as well.

Little did we know what to expect, but the response was overwhelming. This article became one of the most commented articles of 2023. Throughout the year, I receive notes and haiku from people telling me how meaningful the practice of shaping a few words has been in their daily lives.

At the end of 2023, I decided to serialize the New Year’s column again, so I called for haiku. This month, he received more than 60 pages of responses from hundreds of people who responded to that call. Some people wrote testimonials about how much this exercise meant to them.

Writing poetry helped people cope in different ways. The group of women, who call themselves “The Squad,” have formed a group of women who have met with each other as a way to stay connected during a year of losing friends to cancer, caring for elderly parents, and caring for many children. Sharing haiku texts. Tink Bord-Dill wrote that he liked writing haiku because it was a daily creative activity for him without the pressure of performance.Elaine Questel She said her haiku practice became a means of daily devotion, adding to her “spiritual diary.” Carla White wrote her haiku as a way to be present during her husband’s hospice and her final days.

Many people find that by writing just a few lines each day, they feel just a little bit more in their mood and awareness. Robin from Maryland writes: “Writing 17 syllables every day soon created a rhythm in my thinking and even my walking. As a result, I started paying more attention to the world. Wandering also made me question things. Paul Nelson continued to practice writing what he called “American writing” (an idea from poet Allen Ginsberg). His 17 syllables without line breaks.

Poetry creates new bonds between loved ones. Several people have written that they have shared their haiku diaries with their closest friends and plan to do so again. Some found that writing a few lines of poetry was a new way to be intimate. Linda Neves realized she could share her own haiku with her dear friend of 60 years. “This is a way for us, two rather stoic people, to become sentimental for each other in a way we’ve never been before.” Candice Waldron and many more, “This practice has proven to be so central that they intend to continue it.”

In these difficult days, when we face war in the wider world and enormous civil tensions at home, we need to observe a little, concentrate, pay attention, and for some mixed pleasure, Who would argue against creating a lot of space? Here are just a few of the haiku you have written. You looked at the moon, listened to the birds chirping, you were sad, and overall you ranged from being a little goofy to being philosophical. Your haiku showed the community enjoying its world.

coyote chorus
Is it a death cry or a moon song of joy?
American owl answers

—Linda Neves, Virginia

the sun hides behind the clouds
While kneeling on the orange leaves
looking for your ring

—Brad Taylor, Maryland

please fall in love with this crow
This gossiper knows everything
hawk mob

—Nancy B., New York

Mountain,
Half in the sun, half in the shade
Did I come too late?

—Philippe Chan, Quebec

trail day,
trees, wind, silence
i love my office

—Bill, Alaska

sometimes late at night
I can do it when it’s very quiet.
I hear the plants crying

—Carolyn W., Arizona

deep flowing river
It may remain a mystery
Also for trout

—Alice Guinn, Texas

Let’s meet again,
spoon dipped in peanut butter
my crunchy old friend

—Susan B.

burdened by the war
And in the winter I fed the robins
some purple grapes

—Karen Jacobs, Ohio

we didn’t go back
50 years to the moon
not invited again

—Steven Schweigh

Being a diva?
Are you coming in tonight?
Where on earth is the moon?

—Derek Takczak, Ontario

I myself have been away from practicing for a while, but seeing poetry woven into this web made me want to try it again. And we continue to think about ways to talk about why these practices matter in the face of a highly uncertain world. First of all, I wish you a belated Happy New Year. And thank you for watching over the world together.