Creativity Is Connection with poet IN-Q | A Bit of Optimism Podcast

I have told that story before on stages. I don't well up like I used to.

Yeah.

And I welled up here. This was simply emotion on a page.

There's something that happens when you create something with a story that's different than when you tell the story. When you're telling a story out loud, it's hard to separate it from the rest of your life. But when you turn the language into a poem, it almost like, encapsulates it, and then you separate it from you. It's outside of you. And that space allows you to share it differently, and it allows you to internalize it differently.

We tell stories largely for the benefit of others. And this exercise, the poem was meant for the benefit of me. I just happened to share it with you.

That's right.

Do you think the word poem is a liability? When people hear poem, they're like, roses are red, violets are blue, you know?

Yes.

And when you say, I'm a poet, people like, oh, here we go. And when you say, I'm gonna have you write a poem, it's a liability. Right. Because the word poem or poetry has baggage.

Yeah. I mean, I have. My mind goes in different directions to respond. I mean, the first thing I'd say is some of the best art experiences I've ever had was while I was in the audience watching another poet on stage. Because I know what it is and I know what it can be. But that's because I've experienced it. To your point.

When I'm talking to people about what I do for a living, if I say I'm a writer.

That'S one conversation. But if I say I'm a poet, they're either super interested, which is very rare, or they just start looking over my shoulder.

What word? If. Do you like the word? I'm a poet. Do you like the word I write poems? Or if you had a. If you got to choose your own word or your job description, how would you rather. What would you rather say on your business card?

Well, the thing is that it is.

Authentic. It's the truth.

Yeah.

I am a poet and many other things. I'm an author. I'm a facilitator. I'm a songwriter, but I'm a poet. And a lot of the foundational work of my art.

It really does connect to that term.

Do you have a favorite?

So the real answer is that it's the.

Don't tell me I love all my children equally. No, I don't.

But it's the one that is closest to creation. Because that's the one that's closest to source.

Okay. Would you share?

Yes. It's the last one that I wrote. All right.

Better up.

I don't know is a perfectly appropriate answer to any question.

I don't know.

And I won't pretend to know to get attention.

I don't know. Why does everybody have to have a perspective?

I'm not.

Taking a position can be a powerful position. I don't know.

And I won't be forced to give you an opinion. I'm allowed to just listen.

Silence is not always indifference.

Silence is not always violence.

Sometimes silence is just silence.

It's okay to be quiet. It's okay to be patient. I'm not yet an expert on this specific situation. I need more education. I need more information. I need more conversation. What I don't need is more posting from a random Jane or Jason living in their parents basement. They they don't know.

But it's wasting space for me to tell them so. So I comment in my head instead.

And try to let it go because.

I don't want to use my voice to be a part of all the noise. I cherish freedom of speech but also freedom of choice.

And I won't blindly follow anyone. Get off our timelines. You're like what happens after arrogance and ignorance comb. So I remind myself to get offline and get some sunshine. I'm not lying to myself pretending everything is fine. But I do my best to be compassionate, considerate and kind. Define the things we have in common even when we're not aligned. Because two truths can occupy the same space at the same time. It is not a personal attack on your mind.

Three or four truths can occupy the same space at the same time. It is not a personal attack on your mind.

More truths can occupy the same space at the same time than we can quantify inside our mortal minds. And I can empathize with all of them because all of them are mine. Society is sick but we ignore the truths for dollar signs. It's gotten to the point where being crazy has been normalized. They only pay att when our mental health is monetized. They're paid for our attention so we scroll until we're hypnotized. We think we're in control but we believe what we've been advertised the co opting of pain. But having context is too complex to be made into a meme and I don't know is not something that people want to scream.

Because no one wants to die for. Standing in the in between they Want a slogan that will amplify their fever dream they want to pacify or justify the rage that they're feeling but revenge will make us use an olive branch to choke a dove it feels good to hate together.

It's almost like it's love.

But I don't know.

That is powerful. I hung on every word. Every word made sense.

One of my great joys is sitting here and watching you get lost in your words. You know, like being lost in your. In the notes that are coming out. And I. And I. And I think that's the true test if you're being authentic. The true test of if you're fully present is if you get lost in the things you're saying.

I think one of the reasons I love talking to you is.

Because of what you do. You and I have shared stages before at events and.

You know, you do corporate gigs. I think it's a very powerful thing that a corporation or an industry event hires a poet. It says something, I think, about not only the quality of your work, but the power of your art. I think it's almost redefining what an artist's life could be. I don't think most spoken word artists think corporate gigs could really help. I could spread my message this way.

Maybe when I was younger, I would have had judgment around it, but now I think it's one of the most powerful and important parts of me sharing my art is getting a chance to connect with people.

I would argue that it's actually more powerful because, you know, when you go to a poetry slam, the audience is filled with the converted. When you go to a corporate audience, you're proselytizing. I mean, you're, You're. I mean, it's. It's more powerful because it's an audience that it only took one person to hire you, but the rest of the audience is like, huh?

They immediately hate me.

I mean, you come in and your name is in Q. I mean, like, they don't even know, like, what they. They don't even know how to call you Mr. Q.

But isn't it more gratifying to watch people change their preconceived notion of what could be in front of your eyes by you just showing up and telling.

The truth and then surprising them.

Because oftentimes when I'm doing the workshops, I then get people who don't consider themselves poets at all to create their own poems that are meaningful to them and to share them with their co workers in a way that shocks them. So now they're like laughing, they're crying.

And they literally can't believe it.

What do you have to do in a workshop to take someone who has a left brain job? They're in finance, they're a lawyer. That you get them to a place of presence and creativity where they allow that right brain to flow, to access that part of their brain and discover that they have a creativity they never knew they had.

Well, one thing that I learned a long time ago is that if you want someone to be vulnerable with you, you have to be vulnerable first. And if you are vulnerable first and they don't respond well, they might not have the capacity, it might not be the right container, or they might be an asshole. And all of the above are, okay, I don't need to convert everybody. What I have to do is continue to show up over and over again in the time that I have the session with them. And eventually, almost like a Rubik's cube, it clicks. In the workplace, a lot of miscommunication comes from lack of context. People actually don't know who they're working with. And so if you have more context and you have a human container where they can have an experience together, it can lead to better communication, better collaboration, and better creation. If people were vulnerable in the workplace all the time, literally nothing would get done.

Right.

But being vulnerable none of the time isn't working either.

Yep.

So that's really why people hire me.

Is to come in and give them.

A container for that.

A moment for it.

Exactly.

And I kind of get to sit back and smile because I know what's going to happen every single time, as long as I lead by example.

Okay, so we're going to do have a little fun here. I'm going to write a poem. Great. So I'm going to follow your methodology, which means you have to go first.

Okay.

Well, you might actually have to turn off the cameras at some point. So you can actually, like, do it. You can take the five minutes to do it.

We can do that.

10 minutes.

I'll take five minutes and come back. Yeah. I mean, why not? Sure. All right, I'll report on how it went.

All right. I'm going to do a poem.

You're going to start first and you're going to do a poem. Yes. You're going to be vulnerable. Show me how it's done.

The prompt that we're going to use today is to choose a moment in your life.

By the way, team, we're all doing this. So, you know, stand by. Everybody's writing a poem. Charlene. Charlene. Ducked out.

Okay, we're gonna choose the prompt of thinking back to a moment in your life that changed who you are in a drastic way. So it's a moment where you walked into it one person and you walked out another person. It could be good or bad.

But it has to be moving and meaningful to you. So it has to be something that you wouldn't normally talk about after 15 minutes at a dinner party. It has to be a layer deeper. Because if you choose something that's moving and meaningful, even in the five or ten minutes that we do this, the poem will start to write itself.

Okay.

The second thing is, don't try to make something great. Make something true and trust the process. Okay, I'm gonna do my example of the prompt. It's a poem about meeting my father for the first time when I was 15 years old. And when I'm doing this piece, I not only want you to think about the piece, but I want you to think about what it is that you would want to explore.

Okay.

I'm staring at the number Wondering if.

I should call.

I can hear the tick tock from the clock on the wall as it meshes with the thump thump beat of my heart. Sometimes getting something started is the hardest part.

I didn't meet my dad until I was 15.

I had seen his photograph, but his image was sickening. A coward with a dick, but no balls to back it up. See, when he left me as a kid, I had cause for acting up.

The funny thing about hate is the person you hate doesn't feel that hate. You feel that hate. But wait. The weight can be too much for a person to take. And personally, I was hurt. So I just locked it away.

I was angry all the time.

And.

I didn't know why.

I couldn't handle my own rage, so I would hide it inside. Pretending everything was fine. Became a daily pastime. Time passed and I started to believe in my own lies.

I took it out on my mom because she raised me alone. The rage that I couldn't own had left me totally numb. It was like landmines in my mind that I didn't understand. So when the boy inside cried, the young man outside yelled.

I think I learned about my masculinity from tv.

The people weren't real, so I knew they couldn't leave me. I would sit there for hours right in front of the tube. The images that I saw were my depiction of truth. It was manhood in a box. And I bought into it the censorship of anything inside of me that's sensitive. The sentence is a lifetime of tears suppressed in a stone face. An overblown ego they've distracted through a paper chase.

Back when I was nine, I imagined in my mind that my father was a spy working for the FBI. And that's why he couldn't stop by, write or drop a line. He was off saving our lives from the bad guys. But that was just a lie that I used to get by so that you wouldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes. When you're rejected by the person that you're created by.

You secretly feel like you don't have a right to your life.

I thought if I confronted him that.

It would make it all right.

But since I couldn't forgive him, it just recycled my spite.

I remember meeting him for the first time. Every time a person passed by, I would ask, mom, is that him? I look a little like him, right?

No. Oh.

What about that guy?

And that was what it was like to meet the man that gave me my life. To shake his hand and look into his eyes.

We talked till he apologized, then said our goodbyes. I walked away on my own.

Then I began to cry.

Now, for years after that, I acted like it was all resolved.

I told them what I thought, so I figured my problems were solved. But they just re evolved. My insecurities were eating at my mental health. I took it out on the world because I hated myself. That's when I finally decided I needed some help.

I got some therapy.

I opened up. I started writing and sharing about my past.

I got honest with myself and I started chipping at my mask. I looked into the mirror and confronted. I needed some help.

I got some therapy.

I opened up. I started writing and sharing about my past.

I got honest with myself and I started chipping at my mask. I looked into the mirror and confronted what I saw. Accepting the reflection by embracing every flaw, then directing the connection into breaking down the walls by reflecting the perfection of the God inside us.

I stopped focusing on everything that I had been hateful for, and I started focusing on everything I could be grateful for. And personally, there is a lot I can be thankful for. If pain is dragging you down, just cut the ankle cord. That's when the weight lifted and I really started living. It's when my hate shifted and I really started giving. It's when my fate twisted. It was like an ego exorcism. Your mind state can be the most powerful of prisons.

My father never played catch with me or gave advice.

But if nothing Else, that man gave me life.

And that's enough for me.

If that is all he can ever give.

Because I'm appreciative for every day I get to live. And even though I don't need my dad to validate me, I thought that I should write this poem to thank him for creating me.

Because every moment we are alive is like a gift.

And if that's not enough to forgive.

What is?

Oh, thanks for sharing.

You talk about being present. You've given. You've shared that poem many, many times.

Yeah.

I have to believe. And yet, as I sit here and watch you and the emotion well up in you as you share it, it's as if you're giving it for the first time. Is that what being present means?

I think being present means honoring the moment that you're in.

Whether the best moment of your life or the worst moment of your life. It's the only moment of your life.

So here we are.

I don't normally do that one for the corporate environments because it goes a little bit deep. But.

I shared something that was real.

And even though I performed it, it wasn't performative.

And so I would invite you or even whoever's listening to this to think back to a moment in your life that changed who you are. A moment where you walked into it one person and walked out another person.

And explore it through a poem. It could rhyme if you want it to rhyme or not. It could be long if you want it to be long. It could be short if you want it to be short. But it has to be moving and meaningful.

And if you do that, you might be surprised at what you create.

Okay, well, I'm going to take a little break. I'm going to write a poem. I'll be right back.

Great.

To be moving and meaningful.

And if you do that, you might be surprised at what you create.

Okay, well, I'm going to take a little break. I'm going to write a poem. I'll be right back.

Great.

Okay, we're back.

Okay, we're back.

So we took a break, and we had the whole team who's here write a poem. And.

I have to say, if you're listening to this episode, I cannot encourage you more than to try this exercise.

One of the folks in our team wrote about. So we took a break, and we had the whole team who's here write a poem. And I have to say, if you're listening to this episode, I cannot encourage you. More than.

Heartbreak as a teenager with.

Such dignity and clarity of we all were there listening. I mean, we were all there living it with him and feeling. Then to try this exercise.

One of the folks in our team wrote about.

Heartbreak as a teenager with.

Such dignity and clarity, of we all were there listening. I mean, we were all there living it with him and feeling that heartbreak like it was our heartbreak. It was remarkable. One of our teammates talked about what it means to be a mother, what motherhood has done and how it's changed her and the love that poured out of that poem. And one of our teammates chose not to read the poem, but told us what the poem was about. About being.

A difficult teenager, not appreciating the love that she had around her and forgave herself. And she welled up with emotion, simply telling us about the poem, though we didn't hear the poem, and the courage and the honesty with which she approached the topic was remarkable. And the closeness that I think we probably all feel towards each other now because we've all kind of learned something about each other that's deeply human, is kind of remarkable. It only took 10 minutes.

For me.

The writing of it.

I realized when you talk about writing a poem and you gave very specific instructions, which is, don't try and make it good, just write it true. So I found this exercise remarkable, and I really. I really hope people do it because it's really good, and I really hope people do it with somebody else. Like, go listen to this episode with somebody and then do it with them. Even though I think there is catharsis and there is magic in doing it alone, I think there's. There's magic in sharing it with somebody because it's a deeply human experience. And the great thing about human experience is they are. They're wonderful to share.

You're dropping dimes before you even start the poem.

That heartbreak, like it was our heartbreak, it was remarkable.

One of all right, ladies and gentlemen, you know you love them.

I know the world well, we'll see, we'll see, we'll see. Who knows, who knows? Anyway, again, and I'm following your rule, which is it doesn't have to be good or bad. It just has to be. I remember the feeling as if it was happening right now. The feeling that I had lost all control, that I had lost all hope. I felt powerless over my situation. And my reaction. It's a reaction that, to this day, I am not proud of. I was angry. I became that asshole that I speak and write against. I put my finger in his face and said, you get me on that plane, and you get me out of here. That's what happens when you're in a difficult situation and you feel alone. Your instinct for self preservation kicks in and you take control of your own destiny because you can't trust or rely on anyone else. To the rest of them, they were with others. They wore the uniforms of their service. They wore the ranks of their positions. They were among their brothers and sisters. And I was in Afghanistan.

In a pair of khaki pants, a golf shirt and hiking boots. I was the one person on the whole base without a sidearm, without a security blanket. I was the one person who was alone.

Long story short, we eventually found a flight that could take us out of the war zone back to home zone. And this flight had one passenger that was more alone than me. He lay in a flag draped coffin.

In the center of an empty cargo plane. And although the flight was quiet, I barely talked to the crew and they barely talked to me. I had a chance to be with somebody who needed me. I spent the whole flight, nine and a half hours with him. I slept next to him or tried to sleep. And it turned out he was there for me in a way that was more powerful than I expected.

That day I learned what purpose really means. True purpose is the chance to serve those who serve others. I am grateful for everything I learned that day. And I cling to those feelings. For what I found filled me.

Filled me more than anything else could.

That's beautiful, man.

So beautiful. Anyway, the thank you.

How did it feel to say it out loud after creating it? And how did it feel to be in the presence of the emotion that's still there?

I have told that story before on stages. I tell the story, it's visual. And I. I was present enough in the moment. I remember when I got really became that asshole. It profoundly moved me and changed me and taught me what purpose means. And I'm in the purpose business.

Yeah.

And it's not often that we find ourselves completely powerless in that way and completely out of control of your own destiny. There's a lot of details I left out of here that contributed to the fear. And I think, though I can give myself goosebumps when I tell that story, I don't well up like I used to. And I welled up here. This was simply emotion on a page. There are some insights in here that I never told from the stage that I realized in the writing of this that he was there for me, that I've never said those words before.

I thought that that was one of the most Powerful parts of the poem and the language that you used to describe it, the poetic language, the intention behind it. There's something that happens when you create something with the story that's different than when you tell the story.

Whether you're trying to tell the story well or you're just trying to tell the story authentically. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm saying when you're telling a story out loud, even if it's fully true, it's hard to separate it from the rest of your life. Because we're storytellers. Stories we tell ourselves and other people become our lives. We are living our story every single day. But when you turn the language into.

A poem, it almost like encapsulates it.

And then you separate it from you. So the story has become something else. And it's outside of you. And that space allows you to share it differently and it allows you to internalize it differently, and it allows you to alchemize it differently.

I think, you know, we tell stories largely for the benefit of others. And this exercise, the poem was meant for the benefit of me. I just happened to share it with you.

That's right.

And I think this is one of the things that I've taken away from this exercise, which is it is a magical feeling to do something creative for the benefit of only one person, which is the person making it. And that you get to share it is why it's such a deeply human and connecting experience. And why we've created this magical space in the studio right now with, you know, the five people that are in this room is because we shared a little piece of ourselves. Not for the benefit of each other, but we just let you in. You know, the. The sharing of our poem was a gift to the people who got to hear it because it wasn't written for them.

No, it was a gift that you gave yourself first.

Yeah.

And then you giving that same gift.

Yeah.

To us. I mean, it not only makes me feel closer to you.

Yeah.

But it makes me reflect on my own life and that brings me closer to myself. So there's this.

Self fulfilling, virtuous loop that. That starts to happen.

I. If I'm. If I'm. If I'm completely honest. Look, I know you and I've seen you perform and I'm. I love your work.

Thanks, man.

And. And you always make me think. And I love the way you use language. I love beautiful language. You know.

But if I'm honest, you know, I might have been nodding and smiling. But was going through my head was. I mean, it's a poem, you know, And I don't think anybody can truly appreciate how you're talking about it unless they.