Lorna Crozier

One of Canada’s most celebrated poets is also one of Canada’s biggest champions of nature. Lorna Crozier was born in Swift Current, Saskatchewan, and nature has long been her muse, helping inspire many works, including more than 20 books. She is an educator, serving as the Head Chair of the University of Victoria’s Writing Department. And she has won numerous awards for both her work – having received the Governor General’s Award, the Canadian Author’s Association Award for Poetry and first prize in the National CBC Literary Competition – and her contributions to culture and land – having been made a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada and an Officer of the Order of Canada. Lorna spoke to us about the importance of listening to nature and why we all need to channel our inner poet.

You make art with language. As a society, are we losing the art of language?

A sad barometer of our loss of language is the list of words that have disappeared from common use, so much so that the Junior Oxford Dictionary left them out of its recent editions. Words like “crocus,” “wren,” and “acorn” have been replaced by nouns like “broadband” and “analogue.” Dozens of things from the natural world have been dropped in favour of technological terms. It’s an alarming sign of our species’ growing separation from plants and animals and the world we continue to neglect and destroy. How disheartening.

Why do words matter?

We only have to look at the deterioration of rhetoric in the political sphere to reaffirm that language matters. Donald Trump has about seven adjectives that he repeats until they become devoid of any meaning. Think of “great.” What does that word mean when he says it over and over again? Words of clarity and substance show a clarity of thought, which might lead to a clarity of action. The misuse of language is disrespectful and destructive. Socrates says it is harmful even to the soul. When we fail to name things in a way that allows us to be understood by others the purpose of writing and speaking blows into garbled bits. 

At a time when conversation seems to be about crafting the best 280 character message, how can poetry remain relevant and, in fact, help save words, language and real conversation?

One of poetry’s purposes is to purify the language. When every word, every syllable counts, the poet treats words as if they are living things to be respected, well-cared for, allowed to sit in the sun with something delicious to feed them. Only when they are seen for what they are, when they are praised and honoured with a poet’s rapt attention, will they agree to walk on the page and live with honour and grace within the lines of a poem.

Does valuing language – enhancing conversation – matter at a time when the issues we face seem overwhelmingly complex?

The more complex the issues the more the demands that are placed on language.

You’ve authored 15 books. Nature has featured prominently in many of them. Why?

Sometimes we humans forget that we are part of nature, not some strange species that exists outside of it. The first thing I do when I wake up is look out the window. I read the weather, check out my garden, startle at the burst of a bird from a shrub, note how the spider webs are beaded with dew. The natural world makes me feel less alone. I am one of hundreds of life forms that moves through the air, that feels the wind, that breathes. How can I not notice? How can the natural world not be a crucial part of everything I write?

We increasingly understand why biodiversity matters, but what does nature mean to culture, to our humanity?

The more I can connect with species other than my own, the more human (in the best possible sense) I become. Loving the natural world, seeing it and trying to protect its diversity and difference, expand my heart and soul.

When we think nature stories, we think Nature of Things or Planet Earth. Do we need more nature poetry? Do we need to tell environmental stories in different ways to grow and broaden and deepen our appreciation and understanding of nature?

It’s not poetry’s task to explain but to dance a reader into the experience. It’s like an elegant weather forecast, saying “This is what it’s like to be a human right here and right now.” It’s a recreation of a moment rather than an exegesis and because of that, it carries the energy and vibration of what inspired it. At the same time, it sends a tap root down to the dark waters of what can’t be seen or felt on the surface. And when it is good, it transforms the present into the timeless and eternal.

You’re not just a literary icon, you’re a leader. Can poetry and language arts be a tool in creating change?

I would love to believe that when I write a poem that praises the owl, I am saving the owl. When I write about the Great Bear Rainforest, I am making it impossible for oil freighters to ever cross its waters. Can that be true or am I just a crazy optimist full of false hope? I don’t know, but writing is what I do best and somewhere inside I have to have faith that it will make a difference, even if it’s to remind those who already know how blessed we are to live on this earth.

In these divided and polarized times we live, is it harder to be creative; harder to use creativity to advance a thoughtful message?

Bertolt Brecht’s small poem is something I hold close: “In the dark times / Will there be singing?/ Yes, there will be singing / Of the dark times.”

Given all that you’ve learned in your journey, what’s the one thing you know now that you wish you knew at 15?

I still have so much to learn and to learn again. I guess that would be my message to myself at 15. Learn to live in unsureness and discomfort and confusion. Stay alert and full of wonder at all the things that unfold, even though you continue to be full of doubt.

Different Perspectives