Haiku Moments: Rewiring How You See The World

When I was a teenager in Tennessee, I had this spot on a mountain bluff I would go to that overlooked the valley. It was a really beautiful place, at least to me. I’d string up a hammock and read or just hang out. One day after a short summer rain, I noticed some ants struggling to push a raindrop out of their little hill’s opening. For whatever reason, the drop wasn’t collapsing and stayed round and clear. And it’s crazy to think after this many decades gone by, I can still see that weird little moment that lasted less than a minute: a tiny little group of 7 or 8 ants pushing against a raindrop.

Stick with me a moment here. I have a suggestion for how to refresh your mind and open a new world of thoughts for you.

I recall another time in some random airport, I saw a young man, short and nervous, clutching his little sea satchel and looking at his dad. The dad was a rough-looking fellow, tattoos on his neck and arms, wrinkled and tanned skin. He had his hand on his son’s arm, giving him some kind of advice. I stole that moment and put it in the background of a novel I was writing it was so striking to me.

Just this week at the beach in Destin, Florida I saw a tiny little boy who I imagine had only just learned to walk, wearing his little white sun-hat and long-sleeved shirt with his tiny legs still bowed out leading the way for his grinning dad following. I’m so used to seeing parents pick little ones up and direct them, but this little guy turned to his dad, stuck an arm and finger awkwardly out forward, and pointed the way he was headed just before he determinedly took off. It was hilarious.

Here’s where I’m headed with this. Go get this book. It’s called Haiku Enlightenment, by Gabriel Rosenstock.

If you sometimes get a little weary of the same old streets, the same old buildings, and if politics or social media circuses are making the world seem just a mean place to you, then there’s a thing I try with myself that might help you too. In my day job as a consultant, I study and manipulate how people view themselves and their work. I’ve studied cult tactics and brainwashing. I’ve studied propaganda and manipulative tactics in media. I’ve worked professionally in change management and the creative process for over 25 years. In many ways, I’ve monetized studying how people think and applying what I’ve learned. What’s the big secret in all that?

Our brains are neuroplastic, meaning we can rewire how we think in a surprisingly short period of time with some effort and the right inputs.

Rosenstock’s book is beautiful, and a nice tool for you to use should it intrigue you – this thought of rewiring how you see the world. I imagine all Gabriel is trying to do with this book is make you see how beautiful haiku moments are and how to write some for yourself. I had no interest in writing poetry, but instead took this as a chance to adjust what information I was paying attention to in my surroundings (and more importantly, what I was NOT).

I’ve written about haiku here on Grailrunner before. Issa is my favorite now – dude went through some stuff and was still funny and poignant and timeless. Rosenstock’s book highlighted several poets that were new to me, which is great. I suggest if any of this resonates with you that you give a think to the sorts of things that are adding stress or negativity to your life and purposefully shoo them away as they pop up and make a very intentional effort to become a hunter of haiku moments – whether you intend to write them down in a poem being irrelevant.

What’s a haiku moment?

It’s a single, striking moment, often seen in nature or among people, where you realize something larger. It’s sometimes beautiful but doesn’t have to be. The point is it’s a tiny little story in an image, a whole vista of insight and wisdom in a single flash.

I promise you – these are everywhere in your life. Pick up Rosenstock’s book or something like it and absorb a little more about what makes for a haiku moment, then start hunting for them. Write them down, even if in prose. Keep a notebook of them so they’re pinned like butterflies for you to admire later.

If you see any cool ones, grab them and send them my way. I’m always interested in bursts of universal insight. You can sell that.

Till next time,