J.L. Fizzell

I get so excited for April every year, and I think to myself “this is going to be the year I go out all out” to celebrate one of my favourite art forms. By the time the month arrives I’m underprepared, overwhelmed and feeling like I’ve let myself down. It wasn’t until this year that I realized that I’m putting too much pressure on myself to celebrate and champion something that I’m already pouring so much work and love into every day of the year.

Beyond my work as a poet, community builder and creative wellness workshop creator/facilitator, poetry has shaped how I see the world and how I interact with it. From the way I slow down to savour the smallest details, get excited about the moon, ponder every thought that comes to mind as a pass time and alchemize the hard things into meaning, it’s always there.

For the first time ever, I’m finally hosting a Poetry Café, a gathering of folks who enjoy poetry where you can come to listen, share or both, connect over a hot drink and snacks, and  exist in a space that gives you the permission to show up as yourself. Naturally, it was rescheduled to later in the month due to a last minute SickKids trip, as well as on the heels of said trip. I haven’t given that the attention I wish I could have either. At the same time, I’m carrying the weight of my chronic illnesses, parenting and advocating for a child who also has chronic illnesses (note the plural in both), playing around with ADHD meds since January, make peace with being a late diagnosed neurodivergent and rewrite years of misinformed personal narrative, trying to find the right fit, fighting cold and flu season, 60cm snow storms, a cracked windshield, a budget going to hell (we also had to buy a new set of tires), multiple out of town trips for medical reasons, still trying to solve existing medical issues, taking on new workshop clients, running two creative groups and a publication, trying to get a book ready for an October launch, residency and magazines applications, moving into grant writing and developmental editing and more. In my head I don’t do enough, when I spell it all out, I realize that I’m doing a lot.

Grace is a new concept for me—something I freely give to others but rarely to myself. Rest is another tricky one for me. My brain says yes, but my nervous system says no. This month I’m trying to lean into it a little more. So in the spirit of that I’ve decided to break up my usual NaPoWriMo Poetry prompts into three parts.

They’re also leaning hard into Northern Ontario themes. I’ve been thinking a lot about how life and our interactions with people shape us, but one of my favourite areas to explore is how the geography of where we call home also shapes us.

I have spent years fighting my resentment towards “The North”. Growing up my only other frame of reference for the world was the richness of Germany—how much there was to explore, grounded culture and the ease of travel. If you know anything about Northern Ontario, you understand how isolating and disconnected it can feel. I’ve been reframing some of what I once called “isolation” into something else: solitude, resilience, resourcefulness, spacious, grounded, wild, free, expansive, open, sanctuary, steady and unhurried. Don’t get me wrong it still can feel isolating, but it’s helped me to really reexamine it in a new light and try to make the most of what I’ve been given. You can find something to hate anywhere, the real trick of a poet is to find things to love in places where it isn’t obvious.

This leads me back to those concepts of rest and grace. These are the words I choose to lean into when the hurriedness and heaviness of life start to wear me thin. I’m choosing them consciously and I hope you can too. There is no shame for missing prompts, skipping it entirely or coming back to them during a month where you can savour them properly. It might be National Poetry Month, but life is poetry, and to me, that’s more than any month could ever deliver.

Cheering you for whatever comes your way and whatever you’re unpacking,

Jess (J.L. Fizzell)