The zoom meeting with Daniel Shankin and Erica Siegal of Shine Collective was set for the following Tuesday, February 20, 2024. Here’s what I remember about the call.
Daniel began by apologizing to me, although I don’t remember for what exactly. Maybe it was for the fact that Jess (not her real name) – the woman to whom I’d recited the poem – did not show up to the meeting. Daniel then told me he was realizing that he was perhaps not as expert in these matters as he had thought; that he’d sat with bufo the day before; that he’d done some screaming; and that he hoped that one day I would find someone who could “hold” what my poem was about.
Erica then explained the concept of unintentional harm. I don’t mean to be flip, but if I was going to sum up my understanding of what she said in as few words as possible, it seems that the harm was rooted in the relationship between my poem’s repetition of the phrase “fuck you” and Jess’s trauma history. Although at the time of the incident I was unaware of that history, I’d since googled her name and found that she’d shared her story publicly. She’d been sexually assaulted twenty years ago, which led to PTSD and, ultimately, to psychedelic assisted therapy.
I said I understood. Erica thanked me for showing up and listening, and told me that doing so said a lot about my character. And that was it.
Afterwards I texted Daniel a poem by Charles Bukowski. Here it is.
FRIENDLY ADVICE TO A LOT OF YOUNG MEN
Go to Tibet
Ride a camel.
Read the bible.
Dye your shoes blue.
Grow a beard.
Circle the world in a paper canoe.
Subscribe to The Saturday Evening Post.
Chew on the left side of your mouth only.
Marry a woman with one leg and shave with a straight razor.
And carve your name in her arm.Brush your teeth with gasoline.
Sleep all day and climb trees at night.
Be a monk and drink buckshot and beer.
Hold your head under water and play the violin.
Do a belly dance before pink candles.
Kill your dog.
Run for mayor.
Live in a barrel.
Break your head with a hatchet.
Plant tulips in the rain.But don’t write poetry.
He did not respond.
Later I wrote: “Just want to add that I’m heartbroken about Jess. At the same time, I trust life. May it lead us to our ultimate good. I’m going to try a different approach to class for a little bit. Catch up on reading, keep up with the recordings. Very grateful for you and all my teachers. Had an awesome somatic experiencing sesh this afternoon. Here for ya if there’s anything more I can do.”
He responded: “Yea man. That makes sense. I’m really wiped from the class. We can talk soon.”