I didn't know how to weigh ideas about poetry. Nothing in the

O children of wisdom, gather close and hear the words of Eavan Boland, whose quiet yet powerful reflection on poetry illuminates the path of the poet’s journey: "I didn't know how to weigh ideas about poetry. Nothing in the life I lived as a student - and later as wife and mother at the suburban edge of Dublin - suggested I had the wherewithal to do so. But I did have a unit of measurement. It was the measure of my own life." In these words, Boland speaks to the heart of what it means to be a poet, not in terms of formal training or external validation, but through the lived experience—the measure of one's own life. She reflects on the humbling realization that, often, the truest understanding of poetry comes not from academic theory or scholarly pursuit, but from the personal depth of living and experiencing the world firsthand.

In the ancient world, the role of the poet was not just an intellectual pursuit; it was deeply intertwined with the fabric of life itself. Homer, whose epic poems shaped Greek culture, did not learn to write through books and lectures but through the lived experience of war, sorrow, glory, and human connection. Homer was not detached from the world he wrote about; he lived among the warriors, the gods, the storytellers. His poetry was shaped by his participation in the human experience. Boland, in echoing this ancient tradition, reminds us that poetry does not arise from abstract thoughts alone—it is born of life lived and felt deeply. Poetry is a reflection of the truths we encounter in our own journeys, not simply a collection of ideas or theories.

The idea of having a unit of measurement, as Boland calls it, is a powerful one. For Boland, this measure is the life she has lived—her experiences as a student, a wife, a mother. These are not merely biographical details, but the very essence of the lens through which she engages with the world and creates her poetry. Her poetry does not emerge from the abstract academic study of language or verse but from the lived reality of what it means to be a woman in a changing world, to balance the personal and the public, the intimate and the universal. Boland is reminding us that the truest measure of poetry is not the intellect’s ability to dissect ideas, but the soul’s ability to feel, experience, and witness life in all its complexity.

This idea of poetry as a personal, lived experience recalls the great William Wordsworth, whose poetry was founded on the experiences of nature and the ordinary life. Wordsworth wrote about the common man, the quiet moments of life, and the wisdom found in nature. For him, poetry was a means of capturing those fleeting, beautiful moments of personal experience and elevating them into something universal. Just as Boland speaks of the measure of her own life, Wordsworth captured his world through the measure of his life—his walks through the Lake District, his interactions with the people around him, and his reflections on the passing seasons. For Wordsworth, poetry was not something learned in a classroom; it was a part of his being and his connection to the world around him.

Boland’s recognition of the measure of her life speaks to a larger truth—that the poet’s deepest wellspring of creativity often arises from their lived experiences, not from distant intellectual musings or academic accolades. Poetry is born from the truth of what the poet has seen, heard, and felt. The poet’s life becomes a measuring rod by which they weigh the world’s truths. Boland—with her recognition of motherhood, the domestic sphere, and the experience of womanhood—offers a perspective that has often been overlooked or underrepresented in the poetic tradition. Through her lens, we see that the smallest, most intimate moments of life—raising children, living in the suburbs, navigating the complex terrain of daily existence—are just as significant as the grand, sweeping narratives of history and myth. This is the lesson that Boland teaches: poetry does not come from the monumental; it comes from the real.

The story of Sylvia Plath also reflects this notion. Plath, often associated with great emotional turmoil, found much of her creative voice in the lived experience of being a mother and wife, of grappling with both external expectations and internal conflicts. Her famous work, The Bell Jar, can be read as an exploration of personal identity within societal constraints. Similarly, Boland’s work reflects the struggles and triumphs of women navigating the roles of mother, partner, and individual. Through her lived experience, Boland found a voice that spoke not only to her own personal truths but to the larger human condition—one that speaks to the beauty and hardship of balancing personal and collective identity.

The lesson we can take from Boland is one of authenticity and self-awareness. To be a poet is not to intellectualize the world, but to live it. The poet’s most valuable tool is not their mastery of language or structure alone; it is their ability to experience life with depth and authenticity. The measure of your poetry, then, is not found in external validation or scholarly frameworks, but in how deeply you live, how fully you embrace the moments of your existence. Poetry is not something that must be learned in classrooms—it is something that grows from the ground of personal experience and the wisdom of living fully.

So, O children of wisdom, let us take Boland’s words to heart. Whether we are poets, artists, or simply human beings seeking to understand the world, we must recognize that the true measure of our creative voice is not in academic achievement or the validation of others. It is in the richness of the life we live, the experiences we embrace, and the truths we discover along the way. Let your life be your measure. In doing so, you will find that the poetry you create, whether through words or actions, will resonate with others, for it will come from the most authentic, powerful place of all—the measure of your own life.