Why I Love Reading Ruth Stone Even Though I Don't Love Poetry
Last spring, I came across an invitation for a screening party for an indie documentary about the poet Ruth Stone and unexplainably felt I had to be there. On a whim, I texted a friend and asked if she’d be interested. After she said yes and I booked the tickets and a place to stay, I couldn’t help but wonder what had gotten into me. I kept thinking, “Why do I feel like I have to be at this Ruth Stone event?”
Then I knew — something important was about to happen to me thanks to Ruth Stone.
I first heard about the American poet Ruth Stone from these words in Big Magic:
“I met [Ruth] Stone when she was nearly ninety years old, and she regaled me with stories about her extraordinary creative process. She told me that when she was a child growing up on a farm in rural Virginia, she would be out working in the fields when she would sometimes hear a poem coming toward her — hear it rushing across the landscape at her, like a galloping horse. Whenever this happened, she knew exactly what she had to do next: She would “run like hell” toward the house, trying to stay ahead of the poem, hoping to get to a piece of paper and a pencil fast enough to catch it. That way, when the poem reached her and passed through her, she would be able to grab it and take dictation, letting the words pour forth onto the page. Sometimes, however, she was too slow, and she couldn’t get to the paper and pencil in time. At those instances, she could feel the poem rushing right through her body and out the other side. It would be in her for a moment, seeking a response, and then it would be gone before she could grasp it — galloping away across the earth, as she said, “searching for another poet.” But sometimes (and this is the wildest part) she would nearly miss the poem, but not quite. She would just barely catch it, she explained, “by the tail.” Like grabbing a tiger. Then she would almost physically pull the poem back into her with one hand, even as she was taking dictation with the other. In these instances, the poem would appear on the page from the last word to the first — backward, but otherwise intact. That, my friends, is some freaky, old-timey, voodoo-style Big Magic, right there. I believe in it, though.”
-Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic
I love this story. I think about the magic of it a lot.
It inspires me to look for magic all around me. So I realize my fascination with this story had a lot to do with my motivation to see this film about Ruth Stone. But here’s the thing—I’m not a poetry fan. Never have been. Still, I knew in my bones that I was meant to be at that film screening.
So, as I walked into the venue with my friend that night, my eyes and ears were open for hints and clues about why I was meant to be there.
I could feel something in the air, but I had no idea what it was.
I couldn’t help but wonder, “What is it here that’s about to change my life? Is something in the movie going to be an earth-shattering epiphany for me? Am I about to meet a mentor, publisher, or agent I’m meant to work with this year? Is there someone truly extraordinary here I’m about to befriend?”
But while the documentary was outstanding, nothing spectacular happened to me while watching it, no angels sang, no epiphanies came. Afterward, no one on stage seemed interested in chatting, and I didn’t meet anyone in the crowd or even introduce myself to anyone at all that I can recall. I was baffled, and to be honest, a little disappointed thinking maybe my intuition had been off.
On the way out, I looked up and, without really thinking about it, asked, “What’s this building called?” and realized we were standing on the steps of an art college. “Funny,” I thought, “I’ve never heard of this place.”
I felt a zing.
A little one, but I felt it, and my mind started turning.
At the time, I had just finished a long round of college tours with my son, a high school junior at the time, and we were both starting to worry he’d never find a school he really loved. I told my friend, “I didn’t realize our state had an art school. I wonder if we should tour it.”
Fast-forward a few weeks, and I’m standing on those very same steps with my son, watching his face light up as he walked into the college, toured the classrooms, met some of the faculty and staff, and turned to me and said, “I love this place.”
Fast-forward nine months and lots of hard work later (last week), and I’m celebrating a Congratulations email from that very college to my son, watching his face light up, crying great big happy tears, and starting the path of college admission with him.
To borrow words,
“That, my friends, is some freaky, old-timey, voodoo-style Big Magic, right there. I believe in it, though.”
Now, I love reading Ruth Stone’s poetry, even though I’m not quite a poetry enthusiast yet. I bought The Essential Ruth Stone and I flip through it almost every week.
It’s edited by her granddaughter Bianca Stone, and I love reading her granddaughter’s story about how Ruth’s poetry and life shaped her own. I love seeing the photos of envelopes and receipts where Ruth caught poems and jotted them down on any scrap of paper she could find. I love reading her words and wondering what they really mean.
What does Ruth herself say about her big magic poetry?
“Those endless closets and halls in the brain where the unknown hides; that open for a moment and then close again. That is where the poems come from.”
I think I’ll be reading her poems for the rest of my days. Every single page taking me back to that night when I discovered an entire world I didn’t know existed, a world that soon will become my son’s (and therefore mine, too).
Magic.
If you love poetry and haven’t experienced Ruth Stone yet, I hope this story will inspire you to seek her out.
Or,
If you need a little bit of magic in your own life right about now, I hope you know now more than ever before that it’s out there for you. Always.
Whatever you’re up to this weekend, I hope you find a little bit of magic hiding in a corner or waiting for you.
Yes, you.
I hope you grab hold of it and let it take you somewhere beautiful.
Want more encouragement like this in your life?
Come say hi in the email group.
💌
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