Let the Light Pour In
Life with Lemn Sissay.
On Saturday evening I spent a magical couple of hours with the truly fabulous poet Lemn Sissay. Mostly riotously funny, occasionally incredibly poignant and all-in-all, completely inspiring and very thought provoking stuff.
He read from his book “Let the Light Pour In” - a collection of quatrains that he has been writing every single morning, and publishing on his socials, for over thirteen years. There’s an Atomic Habit right there. Inspiration shot one courtesy of Lemn - whatever it is you’re trying to do, just get up every morning and do a bit of it. Show up, have a go, keep doing it.
Lemn described poems as “emotional witness statements” and the act of writing poetry as “an exercise in humility to the written word. The opportunity to face the constant possibility that people will think you are crap. But to write anyway”.
The exercise in humility phrase resonated and really stuck with me. Driving home, I started to recognise that turning up as a coach, or a leader, might be similar - an exercise in humility, only rather than to words, to other people. The opportunity to face the constant possibility that people will think you are crap. But to turn up, try, and to lead anyway. So there’s inspiration shot two from a Somersetian arts centre with eye-wateringly expensive warm, slightly flat prosecco served in a plastic cup.
Lemn also offered a gateway into the staggering complexity and impossibility of knowledge. He said “If you want to understand straight away, listen to Donald Trump. If not, read some poetry. The beginning of all understanding is to not understand. To not know is the beginning of all knowing.”
Which got me thinking about curiosity, asking questions, just being present and seeking to understand rather than to explain. Acknowledging that some things might just be unknowable or inexplicable, and that might be ok. Remembering that the creative arts can find a dimension into the unknowing, a way to describe or to illustrate without needing to know or to understand, a human connection that perhaps cannot be rationalised or explained.
And as if laughter, beautiful poems and incredible wisdom weren’t enough, at one point, Lemn managed to get every single person in the theatre joining in to sing rounds of one of his quatrains, like the “Shatki Sings” women’s choir who do this at Stonehenge to celebrate the Solstice.
Shatki Sings One Day at a Time | Stonehenge | Summer Solstice
I hadn’t sung with a room full of other people for some considerable time, and I forget how energising and incredible an experience it is - even if, like me, you’re not a great singer. There is something in the collective act of singing, of releasing your voice out into the world, that I think is incredibly powerful and somehow connects us all back to our souls and to the divine, or the force that is greater than us.
The words of the poem are wonderfully meditative, and staggeringly wise in their simplicity.
‘How do you do it?’ said light ‘
‘How do you wake and shine?’
‘I keep it simple’ said light
‘One day at a time’.
So this is my reflection for the coming week. Reclaim the world from the darkness, let the light pour in. One day at a time. And if you get the chance to see Lemn read his poetry, grasp it with both hands - it’s a stunning experience. If you can’t, I’d recommend any of his books, but particularly this one. ❤️
