Toward the middle of April, I was plagued by some serious doomscrolling issues. Even though I swore to myself that I would not read the news or look at Instagram before 3:00 pm, I found myself doing it anyway. Beginning in the morning as soon as I woke up. This was not a good thing for my mental health. I was suffering. I was avoiding my regular morning routine, which included what Tom and I refer to as “gentle waking” (which, for me, is coffee, meditation, poetry, and puzzles) (Tom has his own “gentle waking” routine).
I knew I needed to do . . . something . . . to break the spell of my new scrolling habit. The new something needed to be easy. It needed to be engaging. I needed to be able to do it in 5 minutes or less and without any fuss and bother or special materials. Most importantly, it needed to be NOT digital.
I landed on . . . haiku.
I’ve done this before, this writing haiku thing. Back in the early days of the pandemic, for about a month that summer of 2020, I wrote a haiku every day and posted it on Instagram, paired with a photo (this was back when I used to post on Instagram). So I decided to try it again. (The haiku writing, not the posting.)
I grabbed an empty journal and a pen . . . and on April 24 I started this way:
Here I go again
spinning thoughts into fragments
thinking in haiku
And I continued on the following day . . .
and the one after that . . .
and on and on through the summer.
I set a few guidlines for myself:
- I would follow the general rules of haiku (the 17-syllable, 5-7-5 format), but I wasn’t going to get hung up on the nature theme, the kireji, or the kigo (although if that occurred naturally, I was fine with it). (And if the 5-7-5 didn’t quite cut it, I was okay with some flexibility – a 5-6-6 . . . or something.)
- I could only spend 5 minutes or less writing any haiku.
- No editing after the fact; when it was finished it was finished.
- And, maybe most important, no judgment allowed.
And that was it. The haikus I would be writing each morning . . . wouldn’t be poetry-worthy. I am not a poet, and I don’t aspire to be a poet. I just wanted to play with words using a specific structure while starting my day in a non-digital, non-scrolling way.
And it worked! I found . . . that I looked forward to starting my mornings with a haiku. When I woke in the night and couldn’t sleep, I tried to “think in haiku” until I went back to sleep. Sometimes I remembered them in the morning, but usually I didn’t. Most of the haikus I was writing were garden-related (it was spring, after all), but many followed the activities of my days . . . protests and trips up north and my mental state. My haikus . . . became part of my journaling; a way to keep track of my thoughts and feelings about what I was doing.
Sometime around the middle of July, I realized I was developing a regular haiku-writing practice. When I counted back, I found that I had been haiku-ing for . . . nearly 100 days. Now I’m not into 100-days projects, but here I was . . . nearing the finish line of a 100-day project without intending to start one!
On August 1 I wrote my 100th haiku . . . and I decided to continue with my practice. My days are generally more settled . . . when I begin them with a haiku.
Today’s entry:
I’m writing haiku
about writing haiku
emotional rescue
Emotional rescue, indeed!
What a lovely idea Kym. I’ve always loved Haiku. Looks like you have some pretty journals to use also. Also love the term emotional rescue!
Now I have the Rolling Stones in my head! But I’d far rather think in haiku and I think your practice that has become habit is a lovely one. We’ve got years to get through so I’m glad you’re grounding yourself with haiku.
I might try the middle of the night haiku creation. Last night, after three hours of sleep I was up from midnight to 2:30… I turn to the NYT puzzle archives at times like those, but haiku might be a nice change! Thanks for sharing!
We often talk about how powerful reading poetry is, but I’m not sure we realized how powerful it can be to write it — especially when you give yourself the freedom to do it for the sake of doing it and without worrying about being good or exact. I’m so glad it’s been therapeutic for you!