Lightness

Each of us has our own blues, something we are better at than others. Something we can fulfill ourselves in. If you are convinced of this, life will condemn you to success. And it’s not about the splendor of the red carpet. It’s more about the joy of being yourself in life. Because there is something that comes easier to you than to others. You get along better with people, you sing better, you write better lyrics, you cook better, you build better, you’re good at sales. Edward Stachura predicted this when he said that everything is poetry and everyone is a poet. I asked Stachura for an interview. A bit posthumous, but sincere:

So how was it that everyone was a poet and everything was poetry?

– The wind rested somewhere in the shade of a cloud, the air stood still in fervent immobility, while people’s thirst drove them to the beer hall. A multitude and variety of customers sat down at the table where I was sitting (poets-peasants, poets-workers, poets-peasant-workers, poets-absolutely declassed individuals). The situation was such that I preferred to learn some life lessons myself rather than awkwardly try to impart them to a reader I did not know well.

And what is poetry, in your opinion?

Everything is poetry, and the least poetic thing is a written poem; everyone is a poet, and the least poetic thing is a poet who writes poems: is this also true? It is not yet known. Many signs on earth and in the sky indicate that this is indeed the case.

Therefore, you too are a poet of your own abilities, in which you feel this lightness. You can create your own, unique poetry, and it is by no means about writing a poem.

I don’t want to live badly, and I’m sure you don’t either. Such a truism. But often, despite your desires, you take on various activities. You don’t do what you want, but what fate has put in front of you. You say: okay, I’ll get through it somehow. The important thing is to have something to put in the pot. And you squeeze yourself into a suit, overalls, or an apron that doesn’t suit you, both in the mirror and in your mind. In such a uniform, more mental than real, you write your resume and, over the next days, months, or even years, you enter a field because you have to put something in the pot… and so on. But even though you sing, you’re a second-rate singer, not Maryla Rodowicz. Even though you’re good at assembling computers, you’re a craftsman, not Bill Gates. There’s no lightness in what you do. Maybe there’s knowledge and reliability, but you’re not a poet, and yet everyone is a poet. We already agreed on that with Stachura. Eventually, the moment comes when you don’t want to do it anymore. Because how long can you play a role that isn’t yours? You lack breath, meaning, and motivation. There is no credibility in what you do. And above all, you have little chance of succeeding this way.

I myself, because I had “tried my hand at many things,” did various things. I worked for a courier company, I was a hotel manager, and for a while I ran my own restaurant. None of these jobs are bad in themselves. But like the prodigal son, I eventually returned to what I like, what I feel good at. Writing, copywriting, creativity, training. There came a moment when I didn’t hesitate to give up even a well-paid job. To take a risk to regain my lightness. Maybe sometimes I regret that I will never be a businessman who multiplies profits and develops a company, or an actor who delights crowds with his performance. But that’s not my story. In my story, I tread lightly on the ground and take each step with pleasure.

I don’t know what you intend to do or what you are doing. It’s your life and your decisions. If you feel lightness in it, this text is not for you. However, if your shirt is too tight and you force yourself to go to your classes in the morning, think about it. No techniques, tricks, or public relations advice will be effective in your case. Because they are based primarily on credibility. And that depends on… lightness.