Earlier in the month, I walked with a friend to grab a card for his mom. He’s a fellow writer but decided – with all the projects he still had pending – to pick out a good ol’ Hallmark card. He and his mom are really close, she wasn’t feeling well, he had a lot of work to catch up on, so grabbing a quick card makes sense, right?
As we walked up to the register, the cashier lady looked at both of us and asked, “What is it that you two do? I always see him” – pointing at me – “walking around with a notepad.”
In which we both responded: “We’re poets.”
Her next question laid the foundation for this column. As she analyzed our response, deciding whether we were homeless and pulling her leg or actual writers, she said to my friend, “If you’re a writer, why not write your own ‘get well’ card? What’s the point of buying one already filled out?”
She’s right.
Russell Magee, 30, sits at the microphone in studio at the Fancy Rhino offices on Market Street. Magee goes by the name, Genisis the Greykid, when he performs his poetry. We are writers, poets, creatives; why were we in this convenient store grabbing the best pre-made “get well” card for his mom?
I could see in my friend’s eyes that he knew she was right, too, but pressing on his mind were deep roots of work, writing, rewriting the rewrite, then repeating that process all over again in some coffee shop. So he let out a laugh – you know, the kind of fake laugh one makes before becoming a complete jerk – and said, “You don’t get it do you? If I had time, I’d write something. I’m here, which means I don’t have that time. This conversation is now becoming irritating because again, it’s taking up my time.”
Ouch!
After leaving – and apologizing to the young lady on my friend’s behalf – I brought the question back up.
“Why were you so hard on that cashier? She brought up a good point. You’re a writer. A poet. Why wouldn’t you write your mom something heartfelt? Also, we walked here. To say you don’t have any time really?”
At the doorstep of arguing, we stop. He said, “Genesis, a gift is a gift.”
For the most part, he’s right. A gift is a gift. But the cashier brought another dynamic to the table. Is any and every gift a gift? Are all gifts equal?
I couldn’t let it end on “a gift is a gift,” so after a few analogies – and me not wanting that poor cashier to remain martyred by my writing friend – we both agreed that all gifts are not created equal. Within the landscape of gifts, we have heartfelt fabrics of our soul we can share, or a 99-cent card with a generic thought of compassion sprayed on its bland surface.
A couple months before this incident happened, I stumbled upon a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote taken from a 1904 essay. At the time I thought it was beautiful and made a lot of sense. But like many things we come across, we forget about them until life’s lessons brings understanding.
In this essay, Emerson stated that: “Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of yourself. You must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.”
There’s something beautiful about gifts that are “portions of ourselves.” The idea of bleeding for someone. My writing friend – like many of us – allowed all of these outside factors of work, perceived time, convenience, etc. to water down the quality of his gift.
This idea about gifts seems natural to children. A few weeks ago I met a really talented kid named Walker McLelland who writes all the time. His father and I had a conversation at Two Ten Jack about life, poetry, the future, innovation, Curb Your Enthusiasm – grown folks stuff.
As we were leaving, he said, “Genesis, check this out. My son wrote this poem for his mom and gave it to her as a gift.
“She told me after reading the poem, ‘He entered it into a competition and won! Which won me a free spa day.'”
“I smiled and looked over at Walker, who was in his own world in another room, and that’s when she leaned in and said, ‘The spa day was cool, but the poem he wrote for me was everything! That poem made my heart melt.'”
This 10-year-old kid seemed to understand fully the weight of such a gift.
Maybe he didn’t.
Either way, he made time and wrote an expression of love, then shared it as a gift.
So here’s the Words In Grey Exercise for the Month:
The exercises are designed to get you exploring. The idea is to place yourself into a context you may not often find yourself in. Then forming some ideas and language around those through poetry, within a limited amount of time. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a writer or not, it’s more about tapping into that “hidden wholeness” – it’s more about exploring. Through this process, we discover parts of ourselves and ultimately become more acute to the human experience.
We’ll call this the Walker McLelland challenge. Think of someone you really love or care about, then write a poem with them in mind. Take as much time as you need to complete it.
After you write it, mail it off. Let this gift come as a complete surprise. Don’t wait until someone’s birthday comes around or Father’s Day that’s soon approaching. No, let it be for no reason other than that deep feeling of love you have for that person you wrote to.
Perhaps, with this small gesture, you’ll be able to show the gravity they have in your life.
Genesis the Greykid was born in Chattanooga, raised in many different cities (military brat), but currently splits his time between New York, the Washington, D.C., area and Tennessee. He’s a full-time creative who’s been writing poetry and music for a living since 2011, recently releasing a book of poetry with creative exercises titled “Words In Grey.” Contact him at info@WordsinGrey.com.