A first, but not really.

  I am coming to this class having not written much poetry outside of a couse at MU for quite some time. When I first moved to college I wrote about every other day, sometimes less depending on my mood. I was what most people picture when they think of a writer: I sat in the coffeeshop blogging poems, doing homework, reading ect. for hours, only stopping for more coffee, food, or fatigue. Contrary to what Boise explains in his first chapter, my writing was purely for pleasure at that point. As a freshmen I was a pre-journalism major with only one course that required any sort of writing: English 1000. I don't remember much about it other than the fact that I had never written an argumentative essay before (damn you Texas education!) and that it was at 8am. Thus, because the majority of my writing was self-centered there was no critic or audience to whom it was catered. I wrote with a freedom that has now since diminished.

  When I changed my major to English, my classes became more obviously reading and writing based. The more frequent papers became, the more difficult I found them- even one's that should have been easy. However, I continued to write poetry in my free time, endeavoring that I would make it my emphasis, so as to learn how to improve or, to do as Boise says, to move it into a more social setting. My first poetry course went well. Our assignments rarely had much direction so I was able to continue writing in my comfort zone. Furthermore, we were require to write daily "observations" to blackboard. They could be in the form to small poems, or thoughts or observations from the day, anything that counted as writing and could in some way invoke creativity. This was exceptionally helpful, and is something I wish more professors would do.

  My second poetry course was not so casual. Our professor was a complete foil of my previous poetry professor, assigning ridiculously complicated prompts each invoking a different form of poetry: sonnets, villanelles, "a 12-15 line poem that is a metaphysical conceit for a human abstraction based on the skeletal structure of a mammal." This rigidity greatly hindered my creativity, causing me to feel revolted at how strained and unfocused my poems became. In class we would read them aloud and critique them together and mine rarely was given any positive feedback. 4 months later I felt hard pressed to write anything at all for fear someone somewhere would take one look at it, scoff, and ramble on about how horrible it was. Poetry just wasn't fun anymore. Fast forward to now, and the sentiment remains.

  Since my next poetry course, which incidentally completes my emphasis, begins this fall, I find our exercises in this course about mindfulness to come at a perfect time. Reading through Boice I find myself having trouble at slowing down, focusing on every word rather than skimming through the paragraphs as we tend to do as English majors. I found myself identifying with the testimonies he provides, though. I think, "Thank God I'm not alone!" At some point every writer must face a block, and it is interesting to hear that waiting for creativity is not the answer.

  As for our in class meditations, I'm not unfamiliar with meditating. Although I have not done it on a specified regimen, I have attempted it before, with varying results. Mostly I would lay on the floor, or in bed, getting comfortable and attempt to clear my mind completely. I would never succeed, of course, and deemed all attempts as complete failures. It is nice to know that that is not true, and to have a guide who helps revert your attention back on the act of meditation. On my own, without anything but the internet, focusing was nearly impossible, and my meditations only succeeded in making me sleepy. It's good to know how to begin doing it on my own outside of class, as it really serves as an addicting calm.