The Maddening Task of Memorizing Kubla Khan

As the title implies, this memorization task has been a bit of a struggle for me. The last time I had to memorize a poem was in 6^th grade Honors English, and I’m fairly certain it was a 20 line poem. And it was much easier than Kubla Khan. Kubla Khan is quite the project to tackle. I find myself back and forth. If I just say it, it makes no sense. When I feel it, it makes sense. But then I don’t know what I’m saying. And I’m still not sure that it is ingrained enough in my memory for me to feel it and perform it as it was intended.

I’ve found myself reading several cultural scripts to a) put off memorizing this poem and b) excuse myself from memorizing it. I said I could do it; I always pull things off in the end. I said that I can’t do it, that I’m a product of my generation, used to having anything and everything available at the click of the button. Excuses, excuses!  I have plenty.

As I’ve buckled down and worked on memorizing, I’ve let out far more f-bombs than I can proudly state. It’s hard! It’s a sweet and miserable challenge! I’m having a hard time not going AWOL with my language right here. But I digress…

Why is it that memorizing things has become so difficult for me? I can memorize concepts and explain them. So why is this a challenge? It is 3 stanzas, 54 lines, 349 words, barely more than a page. I know hundreds of songs, if not thousands. I thought of putting this to the tune of a song I know. It didn’t feel right. I feel an immense pressure to do this poem justice. I don’t want to simply put it to the tune of some Lady Gaga song. It has to be performed. As I said after Brady performed it a week ago, I felt it made sense for the first time when it was recited in this way.

It’s a poem. It’s just a poem. Is it just a poem? What is it? Why is it so important? Why has it held up so well over time? SO MANY QUESTIONS! STOP!

There is something here that “makes me a part of my generation:” my desire for perfection. Perhaps my environment is more appropriate. I was raised by college educated parents, and going to college was never an option. I worked myself til I was sick so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting into a school and I could have as many options as possible. I was a 4.0 student at the best all-female high school in the city. And then I fell apart. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I gave up. But I didn’t. I became dysfunctional, but I’ve never let go of the desire for perfection, nor will I likely ever.

So where does his leave me? How does this relate to the task at hand?

I have been given the assignment of performing a classic Romantic poem in front of a class of very unique and intelligent individuals. What a task! It’s a bit terrifying because it’s so very vulnerable. The thing is, I can only perform this poem if I truly open myself up to it and let it run through me, baring my soul in the process. That’s scary as hell. And if I’m gonna do it, I want to do it right. No half-hearted attempts here. It has to be spot on.

This kind of pressure can be crippling. It’s also completely internal, so I can get rid of it at any moment. However, because of my love for extremes, I find getting rid of that flips me to excuses. So this memorization task has been a serious test in my ability to find balance in my life.

The thing is, I don’t think a balanced performance of this poem is adequate. That’s not how poetry of this magnitude is to be performed. As I said, it has to be felt, to flow through me. So how do I exercise balance in my mental attitude toward the assignment while putting myself into it wholeheartedly? Is this the ultimate exercise in balance or absolute extremism masked by an attempt at balance?

I really wish I knew. I also wish I knew this poem as well as I want to. I’m working on it, and we’ll see if I get there. I’ll see if I can find a balanced path to an extreme performance. My therapist would be proud….

Maybe.