published in The Writer’s Chronicle (04/2022)
Metaphors seem to come out of nowhere. A comparison is made, two things we would never think to associate are beautifully conjoined, and we’re overcome by delight. How did the writer think of it? The greater the incongruity, the greater the mystery. No path of logic or skill could have led to such invention. And yet perhaps it something we can explore, even cultivate.
I want you for a moment to lift your hands. I realize this is not a typical request, and you may decide to make only a mental note of it, but if you do take a moment to experience your hands in the air and the presence of your body in space, then let me say this: your body is the source of all your metaphors.
I will go further and ask you to activate your five senses as well as your proprioception, which tells you where each part of your body is located in space. You may also tune in to the sensations within your body, including your emotions, which have a palpable energy or motion even when stilled. This is the whole writer, body, mind and heart. This is the wellspring of metaphor. May this moment stick with you. If you like, before bringing your hands to a keyboard or pad to start a session of writing, hold them in the air, as a reminder to bring your whole self to your work.
Now take a look at your hands. Nothing could be more familiar. They are so often in the line of sight, doing what we ask of them, and yet we hardly ever see them, much less appreciate them. The poet Tim Seibles, writing an ode to his hands, wonders at this blindness.
Five-legged pocket spiders, knuckled
starfish, grabbers of forks, why
do I forget that you love me:
your willingness to button my shirts,
tie my shoes—even scratch my head!
As we read “knuckled starfish,” we look at our hands through the lens of a different object, and this is the most compelling definition of metaphor I’ve found since it captures the actual experience of metaphor—the way we get to see or apprehend one thing in terms of another.[ii] At first, there’s confusion because the two objects seem disconnected. Then all of a sudden, the two images line up. You look at your hand and catch sight of the strange, wriggling appendages that are your fingers. A vivid picture comes into focus, and it gives you a jolt of pleasure. It’s like getting a joke or solving a riddle. At first, there’s cognitive dissonance; then, you dispel it. The impulse is good for survival and therefore rewarded. Endorphins are actually released.