Disappointment? Keep plodding, be a dandelion ...

The book stores will not stock my books, on the grounds that they are self-published.

So I decide to submit to publishers. I earmark a couple and conceive differing manuscripts - ones, which I hope will fit the feel and vision of the respective publishers.

The first open window period is with Uhlanga Press - an admirable little enterprise, some of whose ventures have already received awards. I create a longlist, then a shortlist, then make a final selection of 30 poems. I print a draft, read it aloud to my willing beloved. On his suggestion, I add a few more poems, inserting them where we feel they work best. The manuscript is almost ready - 38 poems, in a sequence that's fluent and pleasing. Who will be my editor? ... is the next question.

Then I discover that the publisher - Nick Mulgrew - has posted a public letter on his website: his open window period is cancelled, due to lack of funds and iffy health. I write back with understanding and good wishes.

I realise that my lovely manuscript would not exist, if it weren't for Uhlanga.

Before I gathered and selected my poems, I had looked up the meaning of 'uhlanga'. Google told me that it is Zulu for the reed marsh out of which our ancestors emerged. It appears to be a more geographically (mythically?) rooted word than ubuntu, but, too, carries the meaning, as far as I can tell, of 'humanity'.

I guess I'm back in the primal mudscape.

What next?

I create the contents page anyway. I paste in the poems that still need to be added. Each poem is on a separate page. None is longer than a page, it's a gorgeously compact manuscript.

I'll ask the prospective editor for his favours anyway - I need this thing edited, whatever happens.

And I'll keep plodding with my bare feet through the reeds in the mudbed. Poems don't need to be published to exist - I've known that for a lifetime! They don't need book stores to give them the nod. One way or another, I'll get them to the readers that need and want them - and if I stand in the wind like a dandelion and let them blow where they will. That's kind-of my contract with God anyway, with Life ... or however you conceive of the Mystery that inspires a human bean to emerge as she does, no matter what.

Work in progress

Photo: Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

Left hand lead

Those of you who follow my social media posts may have picked up a recent one, in which I share that I had been encouraged by a soul healer to allow my left hand to show me a way forward.

I tried writing with my left hand and found it a very interesting exercise. I have continued and it has led me to a fascinating creature - the chameleon. (If you have the patience to read the handwritten words in the accompanying image, you may be quite entertained to see how exactly my left hand led me.) 

Credo Mutwa, whose book, Isilwane, could be said to play the role of a kind of left-hand somebody (as distinct from a right-hand man) in my idiosyncratic questings, composed a beautiful praise song to the chameleon.

Praise Song to the Chameleon (extracts)

You, of whom warriors of old were afraid

And you, of whom the men today are also afraid

Little chameleon, what is the secret of your magic?

Why do the children of Africa hold you in such dread?

Even the bravest will quail at your touch

Even the mightiest will shrink from handling you

Only little children, secure in their innocence, dare to hold you in their hands

What is your story, chameleon?

[...]

Chameleom, the slow one, unwabu!

Chameleon, the beautiful one who changes his colours

Chameleon, the symbol of the sanusis, keepers of the hidden wisdom

They taught us in the great huts of grass

They taught us in the caves and in the holes in the ground

They taught us that we should be like chameleons, invisible to our enemies

They taught us to seek the knowledge of long ago and to see both into the future and into the past

To see both into the visible world and into the invisible world

Just as you swing your eyes, one looking forward and one looking backward

So we are taught to be like you

[...]

Anne Keating, in her wonderful book, Wild Voices, writes:

You have been taking a good look in the mirror recently and seeing a few of the masks you have been using to camouflage yourself. You realise what a burden they are becoming and are asking yourself WHAT FOR? Why am I keeping up this exhausting camouflage? 

When you are drawn to Chameleon it is a very positive and strong sign that you are now determined to face any self-delusion and remove your masks for good.

And this goes even further.

You will show little tolerance for deception in others in any situation. [...] You are looking for the REAL world [...]

 

Keating, furthermore, gives the key word for chameleon as PRECISION. The focused, carefully deliberated aim, with which chameleon's tongue is able to target and seize its prey, is a reminder not to rush and to allow pure intention to be the leader of your actions.

Left-handed journal entry, 17th January 2021 

Detail from the illustration for chameleon in Isilwane by Bowen Boshier.

Photo: Silke Heiss

Stretching himself to reach another branch. Photo: Silke Heiss