Transcript
A (0:00)
Henry Schucman, a poet, a novelist, an essayist and a long time meditator. I like the line that no poet begins as a philosopher, but by writing poetry, every poet becomes a philosopher. Because poetry is a way of being alive in the world. It's a way of opening your heart to the wonder and beauty that's all around us so that we can experience the fullness of reality. Wonder, romanticism. The two words I'd use to summarize the conversation you're about to listen to. What was your original draw into the written word? Was it a need to express? Was it a love for the written word? What was.
B (0:42)
Was the recognition that there was another way of being alive than the one I knew. And somehow I got wind of that through getting to know a tramp, you know, an old guy who. Who wandered the highways and byways of England. And there were a lot of them.
A (1:01)
How old are you at this time?
B (1:02)
I was 12, 13, 14 around. I've got to know him when I was 12. Knew him better the summer I was 13 and 14. Those summers he would come to the valley where we had a cottage outside Oxford, actually, that we go to some weekends. And in the summer. And he would come to that valley in the spring and stay till autumn. And he's called Speedy. And I actually started to get to know him. And he had this strange energy and presence about him that was unlike anybody else I knew. And he just. I felt, I recognized he was alive in a different way. And one summer after I'd been out, you know, hanging with him a bit and being in the land out in the north of Oxford, this was a beautiful countryside, valleys and hills. I came back and I was looking at the street in Oxford outside my window as night was falling. And suddenly there was this sort of just a different energy in me. And I knew it wanted me or I knew the thing to do, a line formed in my mind. A phrase just came. Grabbed a notebook and a pen and I wrote the first phrase. And it just kept going and I just rode it, saying what it told me to say, you know, as it were. And it was a way. And at the end of it I was. I didn't know what had just happened to me. I was alive and awake in a way I never had been before, trembling. And I felt I'd managed to say something about the scene, the beauty of the evening, of the street under my window. I'd managed to say something about it that I didn't previously know I wanted to say, although I knew I Wanted to say something. So it was like a different way of actually appreciating the world.
A (3:01)
Do you feel like you were channeling something? Like when you read about, say, the prophets in the Bible, it's like the spirit of God descended on them and then they spoke a message from an exterior source? Or do you feel like it was a more interior thing where maybe the. It sounds like this was a bit more of a frantic, mad dash of writing. But sometimes there's a sense of achievement or an accomplishment where you've translated felt senses into concrete words. In the process of editing, refining, you were able to illuminate something that you'd never been able to express. Which one was it?
