Here’s a poem by Alan Dugan that piqued my curiosity because it resonates well with what I do for a living, my passion which, unfortunately, is what I do not do for a living (for now anyway), and my plan for the future.
CREDO
They told me, “You don’t have
to work: you can starve,”
so I walked off my job
and went broke. All day
I looked for love and cash
in the gutters and found
a pencil, paper, and a dime
shining in the fading light,
so I ate, drank, and wrote:
“It is no use: poverty
is worse than work, so why
starve at liberty? when I
can eat as a slave, drink
in the evening, and pay
for your free love at night.”
-Alan Dugan
It’s been a long time dream of mine to become a poet full time. At this time in my life, however, with so many things happening on my plate (coping with the bulldozing demands of everyday living), coming from different obligations in different directions, I find it hard, or worse, I am frightened, just thinking about it. So when I stumbled on this poem, I found some relief (not a big sigh of relief though), knowing that I’m not alone in this quandary.
The nagging question that assaults my mind, from time to time, especially during times when I encounter very good poems that make me forget to breath, is this: Poetry or poverty? Just reflecting on this question alone puts a strain on my countenance. It’s a painfull struggle. It's just like Jacob wrestling with the angel. I think this is one of those universal dilemmas that gnaw on your bones until you muster a considerable amount of courage to put a stop to it, once and for all.
Poetry is my passion. As I always tell my friends, time and again, poetry is my oxygen. It is my lifeline because it helped me keep my head above murky waters, especially during those lowest points in my life that nearly zapped away every fibre of my being. It is my own version of the Swiss Army knife, my survival kit, and I cannot imagine myself living without reading or writing poems. Even if the last trace of oxygen is taken away from my lungs to seal my lips forever in this secular world and prepare my body for the worms to feast on, I can feel in my bones that my poetry will still be carried on and transformed into a chant to praise the Lord in eternity.
At the same time, I don’t want to again venture into the harrowing experience of going into poverty. I’ve looked at it eyeball-to-eyeball, iris-to-iris, during my younger years and it gripped me tightly to the point where it almost covered all the pores of my body to prevent oxygen from seeping in. Worst, it almost took away the last drop of my dignity. Good thing, I was able to extricate myself, not after grappling and brawling, from its deadly claws, though writhing in pain.
So weighing the two opposing forces, if I may call it that way, I succumbed to the teasingly waiting arms of the "Middle Way," as Buddhists would say, just to be on the safe side, until I retire and follow the whispers of my heart which is to go all the way in writing poems, come hell or high water. At least, I have my pension to fall back to if everything gets awry. I came to this decision after agonizingly sifting through several life scenarios with the basic necessities of life hovering above my head like the sword of Damocles. I am still tied up to my current job and trying to work on my poems on the side.The wisdom of pragmatism finally prevailed.
The poet William Carlos Williams is one good example of venturing the middle way. He was a Physician (Paediatrician and General Practitioner) and writes poetry at the same time. Wallace Stevens wrote poetry while working as a vice president for a big insurance company. Here’s an interesting note about Stevens: After he won the Pulitzer Prize in 1955, he was offered a faculty position at Harvard, but declined since it would have required him to give up his vice presidency of The Hartford. Another well known and Nobel Prize winner in Literature, Pablo Neruda, held many diplomatic posts in his lifetime and still wrote poetry. The list goes on and on.
I have high admiration for people who pursued their passion fulltime, especially those in the field of arts, in spite of the accompanying risks involved, in exchange for a more secured life. I doff my hat to you, guys. But despair or frustration should not inhabit the minds of those who chose the “middle way.” At the end of the day, it’s how we choose to live our life that matters most and that makes the difference. Anyway, the onus falls on us alone who will face the regrettable consequence of not following even the faintest call of our hearts.
But I am not following Dugan’s way of going to work, eating as a slave, drinking in the evening and paying for free love at night. For me, this is tantamount to spiritual suicide.
As the rays of the sun slowly diffuse until the wide night takes over, we should be able to look in the mirror, and say, “Well, at least, I did my best.” Bittersweet, eh?
But despair or frustration should not inhabit the minds of those who chose the “middle way.” At the end of the day, it’s how we choose to live our life that matters most and that makes the difference. Anyway, the onus falls on us alone who will face the regrettable consequence of not following even the faintest call of our hearts. 
