Bahá’u’lláh’s prison cell. He was imprisoned for years. I was really excited, for whatever reason, to visit that cell, more than any other spot. We got there and it was a stormy day and I just had a really deep desire in my heart to be alone in this prison cell.
We’d have time for prayer and meditation, and I was with this group, and these people, they would have these prayer-a-thons. They would be able to hunker down for an hour and a half or something. And I didn’t have that type of attention span, so I thought there was no chance I was going to get any alone time.
We all went into this room, probably 40 people or so, into this prison cell. And I had such an unusual experience that I’ve never had anything like it. I just closed my eyes for what felt like seconds and opened my eyes. And everybody had left the prison cell and the door was closed and I hadn’t heard any commotion or anything, in a pretty small space with 40 people. It was so surreal. Yeah, and the door was closed. I looked around and immediately had what was, I would say, the most profound experience of my life. It doesn’t feel appropriate to say I heard a voice. It was more like I experienced a voice in every cell of my body, which I took to be Bahá’u’lláh’s voice. And it said, “Let us dance.” It was this incredible cracking open experience.
In poetry, we use shorthand for things to mean so much more than what is said. It’s like these specific combinations of words that are like a code to unlock so much more. And that’s how this felt. What it did was it gave me permission, this loving authoritative permission, to relate to God and to my spiritual journey in a truthful and honest and just open and dynamic way, like a dance rather than a march of shoulds and perfectionisms.
I had this incredible cathartic process of deep, deep kind of ecstatic grief and then laughter. And then I just started singing, and it felt like this rejoicing reunion with my deepest self and soul. And in that moment also, I knew that one day I would have a book of poetry called Let Us Dance!
So that’s the name of this book. Let Us Dance: The Stumble and Whirl with the Beloved. And then it wasn’t a week after coming back from that pilgrimage that this “Say ‘Wow!’” experience cracked open this poetic flow in this whole new way. So it was just an extraordinary experience.
Mark: One of the quotes that you use -- I think at the bottom of some of your emails -- is from Bahá’u’lláh, and I love it because it ties in so closely to that invitation, “Let us Dance.” It’s “The sea of joy yearns to attain your presence,” which sounds like an invitation to dance. And you’ve just so gloriously taken up that invitation. I was wondering if you could share the poem that references Bahá’u’lláh, but also Mohammed, Moses, Krishna, Buddha, and so many more.
Chelan: Happily, Mark. Yes. Okay. This one’s called “Approach Thirsty.”
Lately I’ve been praying to Mohammed, Moses, Krishna, Buddha,
Bahá’u’lláh, Zoroaster, Jesus.
Why be choosy?
I ask any source of true love and great joy to throw me as many bones as they might.
Sometimes I pray to Mozart, Bach, or Galileo to pour music
or the stars through me.
Often I pray to Táhirih, a great Persian poet and feminist of the 1800s, who would remove her veil when addressing men and was murdered for truth at age 38.
Her final words were “You can kill me as soon as you like, but you will never stop the emancipation of women.”
I often ask Hafez for a dance and we go for the most poetic whirls.
Sometimes I ask Rumi that he pluck me an ancient, ever-blooming rose and I crush its scent onto the page.
I have a crush on Khalil Gibran and ask that he pass me inspired love notes.
I pray to Joan of Arc and Einstein for bad-assery and great ideas.
Inspiration is not elitist.
There is no muse that is off limits.
No genius you should not approach and ask to be yours.
There are no copyright issues with what you receive from prayer.
No one lays claim to certain frequencies of light.
Oh, beseech whoever you might that the master keys that open all hearts are put in your care, that your particularly necessary style of expression may open new portals of beauty to the eyes of the world.
Hobnob with all the great dead poets, thinkers, lovers, artists, leaders of truth.
They still want a place to pour their wonder into the world.
And you are a worthy vessel.
It’s an open bar in the sky.
Approach thirsty and ask.
Mark: Wow. I’m like a one-note piano. Wow. Wow. Wow. I think this is one of the first times I’ve come across the word “bad-assery” and the crusty judge of my text editor underlined it. Like, “That’s not a word. You can’t use that.” Yeah, we’re running out of time so rapidly. I can’t believe this. We’re only halfway through all this stuff we wanted to sketch out.
So, Preeta, if you can queue up “The Worst Thing,” we’ll go to that after this next bit of discussion and maybe Chelan will read one more before that.
Chelan: Perfect.
Mark: So at 21, these breakthroughs, and now 12 years have elapsed, and correct me if I’m wrong, but poetry has pretty much been coming through nonstop during that time. And sometimes almost too fast to record, where you’ve had to tell your muse, “Slow it down. Let me process,” or “Go away for a little while.” But also interwoven with all this has been this playful willingness to experiment with life in so many different ways. So maybe you could share about some of the additional experiments after that “bad poem a day” that have come around and just the way, these days, poetry continues to emerge for you.
Chelan: Hmm, awesome. Thanks, Mark. Yes. So yeah, it had been 12 years or so of poems coming through in this way. And I had a really big collection, and my deepest hope, which really just felt like a fantasy, was to publish my books and share them with the world. But I still had a lot of wounds around human relationships. I’d had some profound relationships with spirit and things, but was pretty insecure still about my relationships with other people. And I was very afraid to share my work at a bigger level because I really wasn’t sure how others would receive it.
So then basically a series of circumstances happened in 2020 that really activated this process in me, where there was no going back. And I realized, “Oh my God, here we go.” It felt kind of like when the water gets going faster before a waterfall, like I was just heading towards something. And I was scared out of my mind. It was the most vulnerable thing I’d ever done to admit that I needed to publish my poetry. The only thing that really helped me be able to do that, because I had such a mountain of fearful assumptions, was to experiment: perhaps, just maybe, my limiting assumptions aren’t truths. And as I move forward, you know, I’ll try to frame this as an experiment to get out of this binary of succeed-fail, and move forward. So I had just, yeah, a mountain of limiting assumptions. Oh, my God.
And then also, I bought a couple of my old favorite books, Hafez-Daniel Ladinsky poetry, mostly to look at formatting actually, because I was self-publishing my books and I wanted some inspiration about formatting. And as soon as I opened those books, I got another nudge that felt very much like that original “Say ‘Wow!’” experiment nudge from my deep inner self. And it was this nudge to do a prayer experiment. So I decided I would go on a nightly walk and just chat with my favorite dead poet, Hafez, and ask if he had any inspiration lying around for starters, and just see what happened with that. So I would do that. I made myself a really delicious cup of hot chocolate to make it extra fun. And I would just go on night walks and hobnob with Hafez, and inspiration started flowing so torrentially that, yeah, it became an inconvenience to my life.
And then it was so remarkable, the results of this experiment, the findings, that then I took it a step further and I started asking Hafez for promotional help. I told him I didn’t want it to be a burden for him -- too much work. I asked for him to tap all the friends in the spirit world and all the people in this world who could help me, because I genuinely, and from a place of true joy and love and beautiful desire, really wanted this book to reach people. I would do that every night.
Three weeks into this journey, three weeks after publishing this book, Susceptible to Light, I got an email in my inbox. Out of the blue, as a self-published poet with really no connections to the publishing world or any big names or anything, I got this email from Daniel Ladinsky, who has done renditions of Hafez poetry in English that have popularized the name Hafez far and wide. He just said, “I found your book. Congratulations.” And I told him this whole story and shared a poem with him that felt particularly inspired by Hafez. And he said, “Wow, this is so strange. I’m a reclusive poet. I never reach out to anyone. I think Hafez nudged me in your direction. And I think you and I need to work on publishing a book together.”
He ended up writing the foreword to this book, and oh, my gosh. At that moment, though, it was like this cosmic cork was pulled when I got this email from him in my inbox. He’s my favorite all-time poet and my primary inspiration, but really more than anything, it was that this experiment with prayer -- it just opened a whole new world of possibility there for me, and just activated so much awe and enthusiasm. Yeah.
Mark: I was wondering if you might read “Sometimes my soul feels itself to be in great exile,” and then, following that, we will address the number one Google search, “Chelan Harkin, The Worst Thing,” how that came to be. So, Preeta, after she reads this, maybe you could cue up the video for that.
Chelan: Okay. Excellent. This has been so much fun, you all. I’ve enjoyed every minute of this.
Mark: It’s way too short. I had so many things I wanted to cover with you, we’d have to go into it for an hour; but I really want to honor the listeners who have some questions coming in for you so you can interact with them.
Chelan: Fantastic, fantastic. Okay. So this poem is called “The Soul’s Homeland.”
Sometimes my soul
feels itself
to be in great exile
from its homeland
but then I remember
my mother tongue
is the poetry
my heart is so fluent in,
its dialect,
laughter and tears
my other native language
is rising early
to praise all the great things
the sun falls upon.
My national song
is a geyser of joy
hitting the highest notes
of ecstasy
and breaking every glass ceiling
in the mind
that once trapped God inside.
My anthem is the feisty love parade
that marches gaily from my heart
to yours,
my religion is the untying
of old knots
that once kept my soul hitched
to rigidity and smallness
and my doctrine
is whatever comes after that
when the soul’s full range
of movement is restored.
My flag is every mood
of the moon
that reflects my inmost heart,
My ancestry is the collection
of radiance
from morning dew
passed down by blades of grass
as they stand vigil
in silent reverence
to be part of each morning’s inheritance
of such wonder.
My DNA is the encrypted love notes
written in the luminous ink
from the stars,
my soul is an ancient heritage
of love songs from God
and whatever it is I’m doing here
has mostly to do
with pledging allegiance
to this glorious anthem.
Whatever I’m doing here
has mostly to do
with expressing my devotion
for the borderless birthplace
deep in my chest
where beauty again and again
takes her first breath.
Mark: Wow. So beautiful.
Chelan: Thanks, Mark.
Mark: Preeta, would you be able to take over the…? There we go. Thank you.
[cello music plays]
Chelan [video playing]:
[Poem can be found here.]
The worst thing we ever did
was put God in the sk
out of reach pulling the divinity
from the leaf,
sifting out the holy from our bones,
insisting God isn’t bursting dazzlement
through everything we’ve made
a hard commitment to see as ordinary,
stripping the sacred from everywhere
to put in a cloud man elsewhere,
prying closeness from your heart.
The worst thing we ever did
was take the dance and the song
out of prayer
made it sit up straight
and cross its legs
removed it of rejoicing
wiped clean its hip sway,
its questions,
its ecstatic yowl,
its tears.
The worst thing we ever did is pretend
God isn’t the easiest thing
in this Universe
available to every soul
in every breath.
Mark: Thank you, Preeta. So that poem you were just listening to is entitled “The Worst Thing” and really exploded Chelan’s poetry out into the universe. She woke up one morning after sharing that on Facebook, and the number of shares had just gone up astronomically. Normally, she gets 5 or 10 likes/shares, and suddenly it was like, I don’t know, 20, 30,000 or something.
And so it’s just one of the beautiful ways that the universe has supported her work and reverberated out. So I’m going to hand the mic over to Pavi, to field some, or to pose, perhaps, some questions from listeners. Over to you, Pavi.
Pavi Mehta: Thank you both. It’s been so lovely to just follow the slipstream of this conversation. It’s had such a natural flow to it, and I’m going to begin with a question of my own and then start to pass on some of the questions from listeners. There are several already.
I was just thinking, listening to the different poems that have already been shared, that so much of the body is brought into your writing, Chelan -- the heart, the hips, the breath, and the ways in which we’ve straitjacketed the body. And I’m wondering, what is your relationship to the wisdom of the body and how has it ripened through this process?
Chelan: Oh, what a fantastic -- it sounded like you were reciting one of my poems while you were saying that. Yeah, oh my gosh. Well, thank you. Wonderful question. So through this initial hypnotherapy experience, which we didn’t get to go into too much, it was an experience of finally feeling so safe, creating such a comprehensive experience of safety and peace in my nervous system that my consciousness really was able to get out of the trappings of my mind and settle into, well, just a much deeper connection with self that was more associated with the body than with the mind.
And that journey has been everything to be able to bring my consciousness deeper and in, and so often for me, poetry flows through after a deep cry. I feel that that really clears a passageway, creates a channel for poetry to come through. So it does feel like a very kind of embodied experience.
Also as I’m writing, there are times when I wonder, should it be this word or that word? And I really actually listen to my body and there’s a contraction if it’s not the right word and an opening if it is. And so these poems are really just tracing these open energetic spaces and writing the information that is there.
And then also, yeah, my hope really is that these poems do kind of transmit energy, actually, that operates at the somatic experience level that can unlock energies. So I really appreciate you tuning into that, because my process is a very embodied one and that’s also very much my hope.
And beyond the body too -- our body is this incredible energetic temple of consciousness and as we unlock these energies, we can really connect with something so, so much beyond ourselves.
Pavi: It’s beautiful. Because I was just thinking about -- I pulled these lines out of one of your poems: it starts with, “I can’t distinguish between the heart of what’s said in the New Testament, the Old Testament…”
Chelan: Oh yeah.
Pavi [reading]:
Scripture all just looks like arrows to me
pointing in.
But I can tell you what it feels like
when God crawls up my spine
or when She lights a fire in my heart
to warm Herself on.
I know the pound of Her gavel
when She says “No” in my gut
Or when Her “Yes” pops a cork in my soul
and She drinks and drinks.
I just really appreciate the visceral way in which the body is included and allowed to speak.
Chelan: Nice. Yeah. And thank you. And really, another hope is to just create a bridge for people to experience life and self and spirituality that isn’t purely conceptual but that can actually be leaned on for real support, you know, through our struggles and to also unlock joy and what not, so yeah. Thanks so much.
Pavi: We have a question from one of our listeners who asks if there are any particular conditions that are more conducive to poetry coming through you. Is there any inner preparation or life preparation or physical space? Do you try to get yourself into an open space or does it just happen?
Chelan: Yeah. Great question. Thanks so much for asking. So I never sit down to write. For better or worse, I don’t have any organized, structured writing time. Really, my main consistent practice, or it’s more of a lifestyle really, is just, when I feel pain arise in me, I just really try to tend to it. I’ve created a relationship of knowing that it’s something to steward and it’s a gift for me to understand more deeply and that there’s more self to understand there, and more energy and life force. And when I relate to it with love, that’s the key for it to open into being energy in motion rather than just a stuck, contracted place in myself. And then when I’m not moving around these obstacles of stuck energy in me, that’s when this creative flow flows and opens, if that makes sense.
So that’s really my only intention, but then yeah, other than that, things just sort of strike at random when I have done the work to be in that more open space.
Pavi: That’s an eloquent response. Julian asks, “I wonder how you deal with the fear of success. One of T.S. Eliot’s poems has the line, ‘how dare I disturb the universe.’ That speaks to me, I suppose I’m a sensitive man, but it just feels normal to me. And I feel you might know what I mean. Do you have a response to this? How do I have the nerve to show others what I can do?”
Chelan: Oh, that’s such a fantastic question. So one of my deep fears or assumptions was of seeming grandiose or something, or that I thought I was too special, or other people thinking that I thought that, in bringing forth this poetry. So that has been something to encounter -- this fear of success. And also, along with that has been working with this fear of really asking for what I want. I actually really do want to be successful. I want this to be financially viable so I can dedicate myself to it full time, so it can be sustainable.
I deeply delight in expanding connections, and this poetry almost feels like it has a mind of its own. It really does want to reach the people who it will connect with and who it will do something for. And so there really is a deep, genuine desire for, I guess, what you would call success or expansion in this way.
Mostly I’ve needed to work with obstacles to owning that. And then, reaching out to people, asking for help or asking for connections and overcoming a lot of obstacles, letting go of the idea that that means arrogance to do that, when it’s really just an advocacy for our joy. And when we can connect with that and unleash that, that’s where sustainability is. That’s when it resonates and unlocks other people’s joy. So it’s been a lot of reframing around that. I hope that answers your question, Julian.
Pavi: We have another question from Momo who asks, “What happens at the moment of a great apparent human ‘mistake,’ leading to great loss for you? Have you had that type of shock? Do you have a poem or some means of response to when you destroy something you found great value in that you were feeling entirely connected to, by a crazy mistake of your own making? Something like this happened for me today. So thus this question.”
Chelan: Oh, how interesting. What an interesting question. Well, with each poem I put out, every time I show up, including this time, there’s always the risk of, “Oh, maybe this time or this poem will be the fall-on-the-face moment. This will be the great mistake that destroys everything that was built.” That is always a possibility that feels very alive in me.
But I also think that our real fear of making mistakes is that we’ll encounter uncomfortable emotions that we won’t be able to move beyond. And that somehow we’ll just get stuck there and we’ll collapse in on that. And that will never allow us to rise and try again. I’ve really had to track this because I have had so much fear of that -- of making mistakes.
So I’ve really committed to a dogged dedication to whatever kind of humiliating slip-ups I get into, to get the tools around myself to be able to move through those inner obstacles. I have had some very embarrassing moments and all kinds of those things.
But realizing that those things don’t necessarily need to be ultimate obstacles but can actually be entryways into even more compassion for our hilarious poor selves. And then they can become great medicine and stories to share with others later, to encourage others in a more resilient process of moving forward and not letting those fears of mistakes or those experiences keep us back from sharing our wonderful gifts that are meant to be shared. Great question, Momo.
Pavi: And it strikes me that in this conversation, the word “judgment” has come up often. The word “encouragement,” the word “affirmation.” And it reminds me of another poem of yours that opens with these delightfully provocative lines.
When I opened my heart,
I caught God kissing the devil
in the bedchambers of my heart.
It was quite the scandal.
And there is almost this mischievous, thrilling delight in toppling these assumptions, these dualities between wrong and right, between good and bad, god and the devil, and it brings up this question for me: What have you experienced in the process of channeling these poems? The difference between judgment and discernment?
Chelan: Oh, what a fantastic question. Well, I feel that judgment is fear-based for me, almost every time. It’s coming from a disconnection with inherent worth. If I’m judging something, it usually is an attempt to feel better when I’m feeling like a loser and to somehow make myself seem more morally righteous or good. It draws a line that usually favors me in some kind of way. And that stems from really feeling insecure and scarce and disconnected, whereas discernment -- it’s more of this experience of wisdom, I suppose, that I actually think arises as we grow in sensitivity to our incredible inner guidance system, which we have. Discernment is a big theme, but I feel it has to do with listening to our inner wisdom and following accordingly.
Pavi: Yeah. I guess the way I hear it, it’s sort of like an inside-out blossoming perception versus something that is imposed.
Chelan: Yes. Beautiful.
Pavi: And it feels important because while no judgment is a beautiful thing, no discernment can get us into some gnarly places. And I think your poems really have discernment in them rather than judgment.
Chelan: Thank you so much.
Pavi: We have a couple of questions that came in from two different listeners who were curious about and touched by the process that you had as a young child, with your mother transcribing your poems. And they were wondering whether those poems still exist somewhere. And whether they will reach the light of the publishing world some time.
Chelan: Oh, that’s so sweet. Yes, my amazing mom. Every night she would create an environment for me to pray from my heart -- which is what I wanted to do when I was little. I would spout off these three-year-old mystical poems that she would write down. And she did. I wish I had them. She sent me one recently. I thought, actually, last night that they would be fun to have, but I forgot to get it. And so there’s one in particular. She might have more. I’ll ask her to find it and I’ll share it on my Facebook page today. You can find it just using my name and find it there if you’d like.
Pavi: Yeah, that’s wonderful. Those questions were from Rebecca and Sheila.
And then we have another question from Christina, who says, “You mentioned creating a space of safety and peace in your mind. I’ve been trying to work with strong feelings that come up around fear and worry, and would like to create that safe place and be able to be kind toward these parts of me so that I can heal and share my gifts. How has that process worked for you?”
Chelan: Oh, what a good question. Yeah. Well, I really needed a lot of help in being able to move into these feelings. We have a lot of protective mechanisms around going in because it’s an unknown journey. It can feel really terrifying. And so I want to honor that it’s been hard, to whatever degree there’s been resistance. There’s been wisdom because we really need support around ourselves. We need the the right tools. We need wise helpers to steward us. I really was very fortunate to find some incredible tools and practitioners that were extraordinary. And without them, I wouldn’t have been able to do that. So hypnotherapy for me has been really my mainstay tool, which created such a safe environment in me that it felt like I could absolutely go exploring all of these old pains. Now it became more of a curiosity than a terror. And then certain tools have worked more at that somatic level, certain energy work and different healing modalities like that.
So I really urge finding help because a lot of these pains are rooted in early childhood when not only do we have this experience of the pain, but we also feel so helpless on top of that. So that helplessness can be activated when we try to go into that and we can really enter a terrified child state. And so we really do need this beautiful co-regulating support often of another being, and to just really own the need for that, if that’s true for you, and allow yourself that. I’ll just say a prayer that you find exactly the right people for you, and that all the right doors open for just the most profound process of healing and transformation.
Pavi: In your response and in so much of your work, there’s such a play of paradox, and what you just spoke to speaks to this seeming paradox between safety and