Hello, my name is Harry Baker, and I am a performance poet, something that is taking on a whole new meaning in the last 18 months. On the 16th of March 2020, I woke up in the house of a head teacher in the English town of York, where I had been performing a tour show the night before. I had stayed over with this teacher and watched them performing in their school that morning, at which point I got on a train four hours down to Bristol, where I gave a workshop on poetry and maths, met an aspiring Christian magician who wanted some tips and then had a gig that evening for an event about poetry and climate change. And I was trying to finish off a poem in time to perform at this event. And then there was an announcement on the news that as of the following week, we were going into lockdown but even now, if you can, you should stay home. And so that gig became the one and only time I was able to perform this poem before COVID and everything that followed. And as a poet and a mathematician, I was wrestling with the idea of what we deemed to be impossible, because climate change for me feels like this big, overwhelming thing. And it feels like it’s quite easy to see ourselves as small or too small to make a difference. And as with so much, this poem now feels like it’s applicable to COVID and the pandemic, because once again, it felt like we were powerless to do anything. And yet, so often, we were able to come together and so, this particular instance, I’m taking the side of the poets rather than the mathematician in terms of how I define impossible, because I think there are many times that this world has not given up on us, So I think we shouldn't give up on it. And this then became a poem that I held onto in the toughest times over the last 18 months. I’m finding it too easy to tell myself things are too hard when facing the end— that it’s too late to even make a start But if we take impossible to mean that we don’t have a chance we have lost sight of how unlikely it was we would get this far The way the single fish outwits the shark by sticking with its school The way a crescent moon outspins its dark to once again be full Even winter — given long enough begins to lose its cool that which was once exceptional, now barely registers at all Flamingos and giraffes look like they were drawn by a child We can’t begin to comprehend all of the ways this world is wild None of them asked if they were possible before they came to be None of them have ceased to exist by being told they’re make believe The bug who finds that all too much and tries to shut off everything to have recovered and then summoned up the strength to stretch its wings The snake so full of itself that they cannot help but shed its skin Or how instead of death, the hedgehog went to bed and slept til spring To think the earth exists at this specific distance from the sun Down to the angle of the axis on which everything is spun The fact that trees happen to breathe that which we need inside our lungs It would all seem impossible, had it not already been done. We are impossible to everyone who’s ever gone before and everyone who’s yet to come will push impossible some more, just as indeed the dos we did outdo the don’ts we didn’t, So everything’s impossible, until it isn’t. The thought of rivers changing course before somebody gave a damn or that a tide might turn from shore before a line is drawn in the sand we cannot know how far our actions go, the impact they might have Sometimes the only thing that we can do is to do what we can. Just as the night is at its darkest when it’s introduced to day Just as the dry is at its harshest in that breath before it rains It’s easy enough to believe in something when it’s all okay. but it’s when times are at their hardest, that it’s hardest to have faith. Here when the light begins to fade that’s when we need it the most It’s by surviving day to day that we see seasons evolve If there was never any doubt, there’d be no reasons for hope It could be too late to do anything It sure as hell is if we don’t And I am tired of that doom and gloom and self-fulfilling prophecy I’m trying to find room to bloom and self-fulfil the opposite When it’s an act of revolution to try stay remotely positive There’s nothing wishy washy about opting to be optimists Whether a brighter future is possible we may not truly know but the first step towards that future is imagining it so, and so as indeed the dos we did outdo the don’t we didn’t So it remains impossible, until it isn’t. And when it’s over and we’re no more than old bones within the ground Still the soil knows to grow its seeds from what is broken down What is lost is always lost until the moment it is found And these things only ever go one way... Unless we turn them around We are so constantly surrounded that it’s easy to forget This world was built upon impossible That has not stopped us yet So yes, indeed, the dos we did outdo the don’t we didn’t It only stays impossible Until it isn’t. Thank you very much. There is a phrase in that poem: “when this is over”, which I think has gone up in use exponentially in the last year, and one thing I found interesting is for me, poems don’t usually feel finished until I have shared them with an audience, until I've had that moment for it to be a collaborative experience, to know that what I'm trying to say has connected in that way. And then suddenly that fell off a cliff face and I wasn’t able to do that. And what I found was that the things I began writing began to be more thoughtful and reflective, because partly that was the time that we were in. And also, I realized that I have always— as much as I’ve written for an audience— I have written for myself. And this next poem is called , and it is very much written out of that urge for connection, that desire to be able to see people, meet with people, and specifically hug people, which we’ve not been able to see for so long, and yet, whilst I wasn’t able to share this on a stage, it is one of the poems of mine that feels like it has connected with the most people because we were all stuck at home, we were all in that position, wanting to be able to hug loved ones. And it has made me reassess what it means to connect with an audience. Umm, but the poem goes like this: When this is over I will hold you closer than you’ve ever known, when you see me you can squeeze me ’til you feel my very bones, how I long to let you know that I won’t want to let you go, there will be so much left to say yet still some things are better shown. I will wrap my arms around you for the seconds we have lost, our words will find a way to wait as we relocate the weight of us, though we are changed - there stays a sense of same about the way we touch, though it is strange - we will embrace how long it takes us to adjust. The world of everything we knew is somewhere we cannot return, the world of everything that’s new is one we’ll build from what we’ve learned, we’d never know ashes could rise again until we’d seen them burn and the next time I stand in front of you will feel like it’s been earned. Because when the start has given way - it’s only then the end can enter, when the heart is given space - it will forever tend to tender, these affections kept at bay can once again descend to centre, something we’ll have come to yearn as hummingbirds connect to nectar. For all those overwhelming moments where I felt like giving up, there is no point why I was worried we’d forgotten how to love. When the future’s all we’ve got - well then that’s got to be enough, all that I know is when I’m low that I have wanted to be hugged And if you’d rather have a handshake that’s absolutely fine, even a wave from me is saying: I am glad that you’re alive. whichever form it takes - when this has passed and we’ve started again, I will no longer take for granted any chances to connect. Thank you very much, and I sincerely mean that. I have been amazed at how possible it has been to connect with people, even though we remain very disconnected in a physical sense. I have been able to perform in the last year in Hong Kong, Singapore, Australia, America, Germany, the UK - and all of it was actually just in my living room. And part of it feels difficult when you’re performing on zoom, when you can’t see or hear people, when you hope there would normally be applause and you don’t know whether to leave a gap because actors are arrogant or to just plow on, normally, I’d take a drink while people are applauding actually, when people are watching you drink in silence, it feels like .. an art installation piece. But we’ve all adapted. We’ve all got used to it and I love that. Actually, for me, poetry has always been a way of processing things, of trying to distill the human condition, of sharing my experience of how people can get something from that. But after a few months of writing, I realized that more and more reflective and introspective and thoughtful poems that hopefully, people might get something from, I just wanted to have fun with it. Something broke in me in a very metaphorical sense, but also something broke literally because a few months into lockdown in the UK, our toilet seats broke. And in my naivety, I didn’t know that you could get seats separately to the toilet themselves, but did a bit of research, and I thought, you know what - spending a lot more time at home, a lot more time on the toilet, and why not invest, why not celebrate this? And so, I bought a new toilet seat, spent a lot of time and a surprising amount of money on it, And it was the highlight of -- I don’t want to say the year, but getting pretty close. And so, I wrote this because having purchased the toilet seat, I was then asked to give it a review and I thought, what a way to use my skills to help them. They’ve helped me. And so this is the review that I left in the comment section of the specific toilet seat website, because in absence of a physical audience, this is where I am now going to try and share my words with people. When people say be kind to yourself, they are remiss to tell you how. It’s more of an overarching ‘vibe’, than something grounded in the now. But there is more to life than yoga, or a mindfulness retreat, If you want to practice self-care - buy yourself a toilet seat. Because a toilet is more than just a place to empty your intestines, it’s a safe space, it’s a haven, it is somewhere to invest in. It’s where I I catch up on the news, it’s where I spend my time alone, have my best ideas, epiphanies, e-poo-pha-wees, I’d like to share with you And during lockdown it’s the only place where I can be alone. So if you want to practice self-care, for something more concrete, forget the scented candles, buy yourself a toilet seat. I considered a glow in the dark one for midnight trips without our lights on. I thought of one with fish in it and thought those fish might end up frightened Instead it’s graphite gray. MDF. Soft closing with a hinge. It’s like a sensei bidding you farewell, when you have done your thing It is amazing. It has revolutionized working from home. In that moment, I’m Khaleesi, sitting on her iron throne. So the next time you’ve been well behaved, and you deserve a treat, remember chocolate melts and flowers die. Just buy a toilet seat. It’s not something you’ll find on Instagram or in a pithy tweet, But if you truly give a damn, then buy yourself a toilet treat-- a toilet treat? a toilet seat. Do you really need that spa day or that holiday in Crete? You don’t have to find out the hard way, buy yourself a toilet seat. If you think comfort comes from thread counts on Egyptian cotton sheets, You can save yourself some effort. Buy yourself a toilet seat. It doesn't matter if you're renting. You can take it when you leave. If your mental health needs mending, buy yourself a toilet seat. So I will shout it from the rooftops. I will say it on repeat. If you want to practice self-care, buy yourself a toilet seat. Thank you very much. Something incredible happened where I left my review - very pleased with it- and 3 months later, I got an email from someone saying: “Hi there, I hope you are the correct Harry Baker from Margate. If not, feel free to ignore the rest of this email. But I just wanted to say that after a long day of home schooling the kids, you made me and my husband laugh our asses off, reading your toilet seat review. So thank you for that. And I realize that what I had done was I had gone from the very immediate connection of trying to make an audience in front of me feel something to the very delayed connection of trying to make one person smile 3 months later who I'm never going to meet ever again. But it was still something. And actually, I went on from there to write a German pop song called - recommend looking it up - and that was just me singing in German, and that was a fun time, And there was no real poetic depth to it at all - I’m sure there is, if you look hard enough - But I realized that actually one of the things I’ve reassessed - and I think we’ve all had a chance to look at our lives, think about what we do or don’t need - and for me, I don’t necessarily need an audience in the same way that I thought That being said, last week - for the first time in 444 days since that that March date - I was able to perform live in front of an audience and I was able to share my toilet seat poem and others, and it was incredible. And I think we are all coming out of this more grateful for chances to connect, ways of seeing things differently. It also, I think, makes you think about the things you do and don’t need. Maybe it’s up to you to realize that you need a new toilet seat. But I’ve realized that I will always have ideas. I will always want to share them with people And I will always feel incredibly lucky for any chance to connect, And so this is just another one. Thank you for listening to this. But I will finish on this poem. This is one I wrote for my brother-in-law’s wedding last summer - there was enough of an easing of restrictions in the UK, we could go to weddings, which was new - I got to have a nice face mask, as well as a sort of bright pink jumpsuit, and I think it may be the best I’ve ever looked, but I wrote this for them-- they’d already had to reschedule it. I wrote it for me for the next time I'm performing my tour dates on stage, having postponed them again and again, and I'm writing it for all of you. The next time you are in a place where you have waited to be there, you’ve made plans, you’ve re-made plans, it is by no means over, but there is light in the tunnel as ever. And so this is a poem for rescheduled events. Thank you so much for listening to me. I hope you enjoy your lives. This wasn’t how we pictured this - it definitely wasn’t when, But the best part of best-laid-plans-laid-bare is the chance to start again. The who is almost what it was, the where’s not quite the same. But for all that’s happened in-between, the why remains unchanged because when this was under threat, we did not run the other way. We stood our ground and we announced that it will get done another day. For us, the question wasn’t if or when, simply a case of how. The joy of not doing it then is that we get to do this now. Because this is not some shoddy sequel, it’s a bangin’ remix, we have had time to crystallize and realign what we believe in. If anything, the first round was all too easy - it’s not what any of us wanted, It has become what we all needed. The race may be named for the hurdles but we celebrate the jumpers, the storm may come but in amongst it we’re the ones that hold that compass We only hibernate through winter so we get to see the summers, this has come over us all but we won’t let it overcome us. It’s not a hiccup we remember it’s how long we hold our breath, we’ll cling that much closer to life for having come closer to death. We will be softer, and laugh longer when it comes to this attempt. For as they say: First the disrupted-by-a-global-pandemic, Second, the best. Much love, thank you so much for having me. I will hopefully see you soon, be it person or on a screen or anywhere. Bye!
