The three-term U.S. Poet Laureate began writing not to become a poet, but as a response to witnessing injustice against Native communities. Her work originated from a deep-seated need for healing and justice, framing art as a tool for survival and social change rather than just self-expression.
The core democratic ideal of reaching consensus through respectful listening and dialogue was not a European invention. Joy Harjo points out that these principles were directly modeled on the political structures of Native nations, highlighting a foundational, yet often ignored, contribution to American governance.
Artists can become emotionally detached from their own work over time. Experiencing profound personal hardship, while devastating, can be a 'gift' that forces a reconnection with the visceral emotions their music explores. This allows them to see their art through the fans' eyes again, understanding the catharsis their audience experiences on a much deeper level.
When faced with profound trauma like a loved one's terminal diagnosis, the act of writing becomes a lifeline. It is not about crafting a narrative for later but about processing overwhelming events as they unfold, creating a way to survive the horror.
The emerging field of "neuroaesthetics" shows that the physical act of making art has proven benefits for mental health and longevity. Crucially, these benefits are entirely independent of the creator's skill or the quality of the final product, emphasizing process over outcome.
The first half of a creative life is the "Hero's Journey": finding your calling. The second, harder part is the "Artist's Journey": the daily, unglamorous work of honing your craft and asking, "What is my unique gift?" This shift from discovery to execution is a critical transition.
Poetry is not everyday language, but a ritualistic form that uses sound and resonance to bypass the intellect and connect with our deeper consciousness. It functions as a ceremony, compelling us to pay attention to history and our shared humanity in a more profound way.
History isn't a distant, abstract concept. By framing it in terms of generations ('Seven generations can live under one roof'), historical events like the forced removal of her people become a close, personal reality that shapes present identity and understanding, making history feel tangible.
Joy Harjo emphasizes that Native stories are not uniform. Her own family history includes a great-grandfather who ran an oil company and a grandmother who played saxophone in Indian Territory. This counters the stereotypical and reductive narrative, revealing a more complex, diverse, and resilient reality.
To avoid performative activism and burnout, focus your public voice on the issues you are deeply passionate about. The key question is not what you *should* care about, but what breaks your heart so deeply that silence feels more costly than speaking up. This ensures authenticity and sustainability.
As creators become successful, their comfortable lives can create a 'relatability crisis,' severing their connection to the struggles that fuel their art. To combat this, they must consciously 'pick open some scabs' from their past. Revisiting old heartbreaks, failures, and traumas becomes a necessary tool for finding authentic, resonant material when current life lacks friction.