The Heart Aroused: Poetry and the Preservation of the Soul in Corporate America

There were hundreds of thousands out in the work world who frequently but secretly despaired of keeping their souls alive in the organizations for which they worked and who desperately needed to reclaim a life they could call their own. A life of our own, from which we can give to others and to our organizations in an unresentful and ultimately gen

if we can see the path ahead laid out for us, there is a good chance it is not our path; it is probably someone else’s we have substituted for our own. Our own path must be deciphered every step of the way.

Simple elements thrown together, even at random, exhibit tremendously complex behavior. Complex behavior can suddenly give rise to simple systems, and the laws of complexity seem to hold at every level, indifferent to the elements that make up the system. A calm manager working with simple paddle strokes can ride a turbulent river of events into ca

Poetry is the art of overhearing ourselves say things from which it is impossible to retreat. A true line acts like a lightning rod in a storm.

This summoning of internal imagery may seem like the description of miraculous oracular powers, but it is really the simple process of uncovering something our deeper psyche already knows. The deep psyche or soul, left to find its way, will offer up or recognize in the outer world the images germane to its place on the path of life.

Soul has to do with the way a human being belongs to their world, their work, or their human community. Where there is little sense of belonging there is little sense of soul. The soulful qualities of life depend on these qualities of belonging. It seems to me that human beings are always desperate to belong to something larger than themselves. Whe

There are energies and powers in the world that are greater than any human endeavor, even the mighty corporate world that lately we have come to hold in so much esteem. Despite everything our inheritance may tell us, work is not and never has been the very center of the human universe; and the universe, with marvelous compassion, seems willing to t

THE LEADEN EYED Let not young souls be smothered out before They do quaint deeds and fully flaunt their pride. It is the world’s sore crime its babes grow dull, Its poor are ox-like, limp and leaden eyed. Not that they starve, but starve so dreamlessly, Not that they sow, but they seldom reap. Not that they serve, but have no gods to serve Not that

our hope at work may be for a quiet corner out of the mainstream rush of a world that refuses any longer to play fair. Knowing we may be left behind in the fiery rush of the company as it lifts off for another continent, the very deadness of an organization may seem like a welcome respite when faced with the swift-moving nature of postmodern busine

If we are suffering the consequences of asphyxiation from the smouldering fuel inside us, we are at least aware there is a fire and fuel there to find and breathe on.