In writing a poem, a task I found challenging and unenjoyable to begin with, I was able to express feelings in a succinct way that went beyond my usual ability to describe complex emotions. My first, failed attempts at writing came from my intellect, and while it was occupied, it seems something else within me was at work composing the ‘real’ poem, but could not surface while my conscious mind was busy thinking. It was only when I abandoned hope of being able to complete the task, that my rational-
intellectual faculties seem to step aside, defeated, and allow a different kind of knowing to express itself. Clarkson describes this phenomenon as “a confluence of conscious and unconscious forces in the liminal zone of the creative imagination” (2005, p. 11). My second attempt evoked very clearly for me, not simply the emotions of the event I was speaking of, but it symbolised an experience which reshaped my entire being over a period of months. It encapsulated the initial destruction and grief I felt of betrayal and abandonment; the fear and dread of being alone and unloved, and the necessity of having to re-examine and question my reality and loss of identity. As the defences of my ego crumbled under the weight of the undeniable truth of my situation, I was
Rachel Lovie May 2017 114 forced to look into the very core of my being. Instead of the darkness I had expected to find, I discovered an overwhelming expanse of light and love. The self-love that this revelation enabled, led to a sense of renewal with the discovery that I was much more resilient and adaptive than I had imagined.
There was certainly a marked qualitative difference between my first attempt at a poem, and the second offering, which was far richer in metaphor and imagery. The
consistency of the metaphor was noticeable, as was the difference in the rhythm of the lines. I know nothing of poetry structure so I am unable to expertly analyse why the first felt very wrong on a number of levels and the second felt so right. Measured against Heron’s canons of validity for presentational knowing (1992), the poem had rhythmic vitality, qualitative coherence, and compresence with the experience. Merleau-Ponty (1968) describes such acts as creative adequation, an integration and expression of thought and felt experience.
The interesting perceptual difference was that rather than being incremental, as intellectual knowing tends to be, it came all at once in a kind of bundle. It was all I could do to write it down quickly enough to keep up, as it seemed to rise up and pour out of me, mirroring Petitmengin-Peugeot’s (1999) description of intuitive knowing as surging forth, unexpectedly. In terms of Petitmengin-Peugeot’s interior gestures, I did not experience them quite as she observed, but recognise aspects of the process occuring.
1. Letting go: Although I did not feel the calmness or slowing down of mental activity suggested in her description (1999, p. 59), perhaps the disruption to my habitual ways of thinking by being on the programme induced a quality of attention and presence conducive to intuitive experience that, although not immediately evident to me during this activity was, nevertheless, present.
2. Connection: I held an intention to make an energetic connection with the memory experience/psychic image I was seeking to find expression for. (1999, p. 64).
3. Listening: the story readings, venue, atmosphere, and activities combined to produce in me an inner sense of presence and attentiveness to subtle phenomena. People in Petitmengin-Peugeot’s study described achieving a state of receptivity where knowing is not grasped at but accepted (1999, p. 68), and I had had the sensation that when I stopped grasping for it, the poem came to me.
4. Intuition: An experience of direct knowing without knowing how one knows, accompanied by a sense of certitude, and coherence (1999, p. 70), as I described. What further surprised me was the need I felt to speak the words I had written. This arose as an imperative rather than an emotion. The urge to utter the words was another instance of intuitive knowing, for I did not know why I had to do it, but was nevertheless certain that I did. Speaking is participatory, calling for attentiveness and listening by the audience, as they see, hear and feel the words embodied in the speaker through gesture, accent, volume and intonation. It can have more impact than the passive form of the written word (Palmer, 2014). What surprised me is the impact it had
Rachel Lovie May 2017 115 upon me; it was as if I embodied the knowing contained in the words. It was a
realisation of the truth of those words on a level difficult to explain, encapsulating and expressing the essence of my experience, seeing that I had risen to the challenge, and been transformed by it in positive ways that resulted in personal growth.
By embodying knowing through verbal expression, it appears to take on form, shape, substance; becomes more real in the world and perhaps, completes an experience (Turner V. , 1982, p. 14). Sense-making involved the transposition of the felt meaning of experience to imagery to story; the use of one presentational form to interpret and express another. In the case of the poem, I had an intuitive experience which gave rise to the written prose, which in turn became a performance of spoken word. It was not until the words were spoken that I felt the experience was complete. Presentational forms then, are not equivalent; they each appear to have different qualities in terms of how one generates, interprets, and expresses knowing through them.