{"id":1097,"date":"2020-10-22T19:31:24","date_gmt":"2020-10-22T19:31:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/?p=1097"},"modified":"2020-10-22T19:31:24","modified_gmt":"2020-10-22T19:31:24","slug":"how-poetic","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/?p=1097","title":{"rendered":"How poetic."},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Two and a half years ago, I was off work, having hit the buffers \u2026 burnt out.\u00a0\u00a0A colleague, Sarah, knowing about my fondness of poetry, had recommended the book \u201cThe Poetry of Presence.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The book arrived on the eve of a visit I had arranged to attend an Open Day at the IBTC. That evening, as I picked up the book, it fell open at Judy Brown\u2019s poem \u2018Wooden Boats\u2019\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

WOODEN BOATS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have a brother who builds wooden boats,
Who knows precisely how a board
Can bend or turn, steamed just exactly
Soft enough so he, with help of friends,
Can shape it to the hull.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The knowledge lies as much
Within his sure hands on the plane
As in his head;
It lies in love of wood and grain,
A rough hand resting on the satin
Of the finished deck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is there within us each
Such artistry forgotten
In the cruder tasks
The world requires of us,
The faster modern work
That we have
Turned our life to do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Could we return to more of craft
Within our lives,
And feel the way the grain of wood runs true,
By letting our hands linger
On the product of our artistry?
Could we recall what we have known
But have forgotten,
The gifts within ourselves,
Each other too,
And thus transform a world
As he and friends do,
Shaping steaming oak boards
Upon the hulls of wooden boats?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That poem … that timing, struck a chord in me.\u00a0\u00a0It resonated with all that I envisaged in the art and skill of boatbuilding, working with wood, and developing skills to use hand tools.\u00a0 \u00a0The Open Day affirmed my decision, to make a change in my life that I had previously seen as an option after retirement, but now one that I should take as soon as practicable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I contacted Judy, asking if I could use her poem in my Blog, and she kindly agreed.\u00a0\u00a0We exchanged a few emails and in one of those she told me that she and her husband were visiting England, and would be staying in a place that they had been visiting each year for several years: The Sawmill in Beaminster.\u00a0\u00a0Looking up the details, I could\u00a0see why visiting this tiny quaint little property had become an annual treat.\u00a0\u00a0I made a note that we should visit when we had the opportunity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Having finished the course this February, I set to, with various woodworking projects, and Sylvia started working from home due to the \u2018The Lockdown.\u2019\u00a0\u00a0This period became for us, as with many others, a time of loss of social contact \u2026 a loss of human touch; and too, a time for reflection, and taking stock.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sylvia was weighing up the pros and cons of returning to work in the office, or of finishing work altogether.\u00a0\u00a0One day, as she was struggling with this dilemma, I reminded her that when I was off work, she had told our financial advisor in 2018 that there was no point retiring with me, because I would be doing a full-time boatbuilding course.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, that\u2019s right,\u201d she replied. After a pause, I asked: \u201cAnd now?\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That question \u201cAnd now?\u201d seemed to unlock the tangle of emotions and practical considerations.\u00a0\u00a0Sylvia handed in her notice a few days later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last week we managed, at last, to get away for a week\u2019s break at The Sawmill.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Having settled in, I sent an email to Judy, to tell her we were there, and she was thrilled.\u00a0\u00a0After an exchange of emails, I suggested a Zoom meeting so that we could \u2018meet\u2019 for the first time, and so that I could show her around the cottage. Judy readily agreed.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So it was, that on Friday, we had a virtual meeting, and shared news and stories.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Judy read us a poem she had written about a walk to nearby Netherbury, and we told her how, only that very morning, we had visited the place she described in this poem:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

AND IT TURNED OUT LIKE THIS<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All those poems<\/p>\n\n\n\n

written when<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t know<\/p>\n\n\n\n

how it would<\/p>\n\n\n\n

all turn out \u2013 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

written from <\/p>\n\n\n\n

my fear and<\/p>\n\n\n\n

my anxiety.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And it turned out like this \u2013 a day<\/p>\n\n\n\n

in England<\/p>\n\n\n\n

hiking hills,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

the brilliant sun <\/p>\n\n\n\n

carving sharp shadows<\/p>\n\n\n\n

underneath the trees, <\/p>\n\n\n\n

the church bell ringing, <\/p>\n\n\n\n

and a picnic<\/p>\n\n\n\n

in the<\/p>\n\n\n\n

shelter of a <\/p>\n\n\n\n

vast old tree,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

its trunk serving as<\/p>\n\n\n\n

back rest as we<\/p>\n\n\n\n

eat our cheese and apple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It all turned out <\/p>\n\n\n\n

like this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Judy went on to ask: \u201cWhat about you, Sylvia? Are you working?\u201d\u00a0\u00a0We recounted the story.\u00a0\u00a0That question \u201cAnd now?\u201d sparked a long discussion about questions that challenge us, and which set me thinking.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So here is my reflection, and a poem that I would like to dedicate and give to Judy, to reciprocate and thank her for her work\u2019s impact upon my life:\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

INERTIA<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back then,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You could not take that step,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because \u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now ..?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Two and a half years ago, I was off work, having hit the buffers \u2026 burnt out.\u00a0\u00a0A colleague, Sarah, knowing about my fondness of poetry, had recommended the book \u201cThe Poetry of Presence.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 The book arrived on the eve of a visit I had arranged to attend an Open Day at the IBTC. That evening,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1097"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1097"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1097\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1097"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1097"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1097"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}