The Danger in the Poet Game

I've lost track of my mistakes,/like birds they fly around/and darken half of my skies./

To all of those I've hurt -/I pray you'll forgive me./I to you will freely do the same./

so many things I didn't see,/with my eyes turned inside,/playing the poet game.

-- Greg Brown

Riding my bike this morning, I heard these words in my headphones, as I have many, many times before. For some reason, they hit me harder this morning than they have in the past. Maybe it’s because of a recent post, in which I transcribed a poem by my mother, who definitely taught me “the poet game.”

This year has been full of introspection for me, with these daily blogposts and journal entries. I tell myself that I do it in the name of being more present in this life, so that I can be a better person/husband/father/brother/friend.

But what if, as Greg Brown suggests in his song, by looking inward I’m missing something? I appreciate the words of caution. It would be ironic – not to mention terribly sad -- if, in the very act of trying not to miss out on my life, I missed it completely.