A pear in a cup. What does it mean? What could it mean? Why is it interesting, even curiously captivating?
Well, to a poet, or to anyone charmed by the unusual combination that stirs the imagination, a pear in a cup could create a certain joy. Yes, joy. The joy of discovery that follows when we are alert and observant and tuned in to the messages of the universe, right?
But, in my case, there is a little story behind this particular pear … this particular cup.
“The final lesson a writer learns is that everything can nourish the writer.
The dictionary, a new word, a voyage, an encounter, a talk on the street, a book, a phrase learned.”
– Anais Nin
Now, however, as a poet, my appreciation for this art form only increases.
Perhaps it is the incomprehensible abundance of words and opinions in our world that seem to weigh us all down emotionally and spiritually; perhaps we see more of the complexities of existence as we mature. The tangled web of darkness and light, for instance. The human quest for truth in an age of nonsensical proclamations. Whatever it is, poetry seems to reach into the very soul of life in ways often difficult to achieve otherwise.
And all of this leads me back to the story … of the pear and the cup.
I found the small, still unripened pear while walking Noah, a beloved schnauzer no longer with us. And the petite white cup had been floating around our house for a few years … blissfully unattached to the other three cups that were part of the “set” we had purchased once upon a time. But, you may rightly wonder, why did I imagine the two seemingly unrelated and disconnected items together. Or did it just happen one day … a fluke, a funny idea? Why, you may also wonder, would I pick up a small (ordinary in every way) pear on the ground and bring it home in the first place … or do you sometimes do things like this, as well?
“We have what we seek, it is there all the time, and if we give it time, it will make itself known to us.”
~ Thomas Merton
I guess I could explain this in several ways but, mostly, I simply felt enchanted by the pear and had no idea what I was going to do with it. It sat on our kitchen ledge for a few days, deepening in color ever so slightly. I sort of forgot about it, actually. But a few days later, it caught my eye again, probably after I’d also seen the small white cup sitting aimlessly on a forgotten shelf. And, thus, this fun pairing was born! Unusual, yes. Yet, the creativity in unusual combinations is endlessly intriguing … at least for many writers, poets, authors, artists, and readers. Of course anyone engaging in research, i.e., scientists, librarians, also will see great merit in looking for that “eureka moment” in unlikely places and situations.
There is a certain joy in this arena of thought. A certain fascination with ordinary items becoming “something new” when paired in less-than-ordinary ways.
But I especially appreciated the creative inspiration of this pairing, enough to take several pictures. Enough to write a poem about it one day. Enough to send the picture to my daughter and ask her to paint it (which she did)! Her painting is framed and on display in our home. I look at it nearly each day with a profound sense of joy, yes, but also with a nod to the unmistakable wisdom of taking the time to actually “see” a small, unripened piece of fruit on the ground (with many other apparently unwanted pieces of fruit). Then to also notice the empty white cup not serving any purpose at all, other than to add “clutter,” right? Haven’t you also had objects in your home that seem to float aimlessly from room to room, shelf to shelf, etc., never really finding a useful purpose? Until one day … they do find a purpose. An artistic and inspirational purpose that no one would have predicted or thought likely.
“There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within it.”
― Gustave Flaubert
So one day, when I decided to write a poem about this experience, I also realized that poetry was something I wanted to spend a lot more time writing. I’d been dabbling in it for quite some time, but that was about it. Now, though, I was feeling strongly drawn to its brevity, depth, precision of thought, the endless juxtaposition of contrasting ideas, seeing what is right before our eyes, yet, missed or overlooked in the mad (sometimes senseless) rush of daily life. Simplicity coupled with complexity also flows from strong poetry and, thus, we are allowed to see more deeply into the days of our lives, but we are also given a glimpse of the inevitable paradox of nearly everything around us.
“You will never find yourself unless you quit preconceiving what you will be when you have found yourself.” ― Robert Henri, The Art Spirit
But, honestly, when it came to my quiet desire to delve into the world of poetry (I’ve mostly been a nonfiction author, to date), it took me quite a while to take myself seriously. At least 10 years, in fact.
Had I read or studied enough poetry to understand the quirks of the genre? Did anyone read poetry anymore, or had the art of verse quietly skittered off the table of life … replaced by fancy phones and such?
In the end, I didn’t have specific answers to such questions, but kept working on poems whenever time allowed. And it felt “right,” so I stayed with it. Becoming a poet was a quiet journey of reflection, but also a matter of trusting my literary instincts to lead me in the best direction. Now, as I look forward to the release of my first collection in August, I have detected a certain joy. A deepening sense of gratitude. If I hadn’t been open to a nudge from within … if I’d closed the door on my creative instincts … if I’d tried to push myself in other, more expected or safe, directions … my “poems of time” would never have come to life.
I guess there is more than one moral to this story of the pear in the cup.
Publishing details will follow soon.
Thanks so much for stopping by this sunny space for kindred spirits! Since so many of us are busy with summer projects and vacations, I’ve turned off comments for this post. So go enjoy some beautiful weather!
“Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien
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