Bukowski’s Bluebird / My Lion
This is your brain on change
Hello, hello -
Last week, I mentioned I’m leaning into the theme of Rooting into Self all month long.
A small example of this…is this newsletter.
Seems easy enough; but, even when I just reflect on sharing my thoughts and work — usually late at night — my brain will inevitably turn on me to say, “Ur dumb. Stop.” (thanks for the video, Zerb).
This, apparently, is TOTALLY “NORMAL,” especially when breaking patterns.
Oliver Burkeman, author of “Four Thousand Weeks” recently wrote on this concept in a blog post titled “The Awkwardness Principle.” He begins by quoting psychotherapist Bruce Tift:
The practices that carry the greatest potential for transformative change are usually counter-instinctual.
And in his excellent newsletter “The Imperfectionist,” Burkeman cautions:
...stepping into this orientation toward life doesn’t exactly feel good, so it’s helpful not to expect that. Frankly, it feels uncomfortable and awkward, especially at first, because it involves shifting away from a familiar way of being into an alien one.
And ALL OF THIS makes me think of the heartbreaking Bukowski poem, “Bluebird.”
In it, Bukowski wrestles with the cost of suppressing his vulnerable, sensitive self in order to keep up his rough, hard-nosed exterior — which, I assume, is a protective layer formed by his own hard knocks and the societal expectations put on men.
Our patterns are patterns for a reason.
At some point, things we did — or didn’t do — kept us safe.
Changing these patterns might mean you experience discomfort (at best) or some form of self-attack (at worst).
My particular socialization was very different than Bukowski’s — for me, staying small and subservient was and is where my brain thinks I’m most safe. (More marginalized communities know this reality in their bones, as illustrated in Audre Lorde’s powerful and incisive poem “A Litany for Survival” ← click there to read it, if you haven’t yet!).
As I make changes to my own self-protective patterns and feel my brain going into conniptions because of it, I find it’s very helpful for me to know and remember: “Oh yeah, this is what the brain does.”
So…today’s poem and artwork is in honor of your bluebird, in whatever form it takes.
The poem of the week is: “Bukowski’s Bluebird / My Lion”
Please note this follows the almost exact structure of Bukowski’s poem.
There’s a lion in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too safe for her, I say, shut up, nobody wants to hear you. there’s a lion in my heart that wants to get out but I keep her quiet with stories of fear and reminders that she is small, so my neighbors and bosses and friends of friends never see me as a threat. there’s a lion in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too safe for her, I say, be quiet, you want to be called a fucking weirdo? you want everyone to leave us? you want to blow our chances at love? there’s a lion in my heart that wants to get out but I’m scared of what she can do, so I only let her out when we’re alone when no one else can see. and she becomes bigger than my fear, like a mountain touching the stars. then I make her small and put her back, but she’s pacing in there, and I can feel her expanding. and we live together like that in our silent citadel and it’s painful enough to make a grown woman claim her place in this world, but I don’t take up space, do you?
Love this so much. So relatable.
Let that lion out!!