Dig your own path
This is an extract from Digging by Seamus Heaney.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests: snug as a gun.
Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down
The poem is a lovely one. It addresses the relationship between Heaney and his ancestors and the way in which Heaney has to find his own craft, knowing, as he does, that he has “no spade to follow men like them”.
Heaney’s skill is in words and he uses this poem to explore that skill and show respect for men like his father who bring food from the earth.
In 2010, I explained to a client, I want to do two things. Just two things.
I want to improve my writing and I want to grow potatoes.
That made me think of the poem which, in turn, made me think about finding your own path in life; digging your potato drills.
That way you end up producing the kind of work you’d want to eat.
My one and only favourite poet.
I like different poets for different reasons. e. e. cummings is marvellous for sheer energy and inventiveness, Larkin for all his faults and the way in which he observes the ordinariness of life. I could go on. Poetry is inspirational. Except when the ideas of great Poets are used by poor copywriters. Then it sucks.