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The Poetics of Pooh: On the Urge to Unsee and the Act of Imagining

So, I don’t ever really post anything here that isn’t a new word. But I wrote this thing, and Brevity published it… so I’m gonna go ahead and break my own rule.

Poohdism could count as a new word, right? Sure.

There. I’ve broken and mended my rule.

BREVITY's Nonfiction Blog

A guest post from Andrew Panebianco, on the act of imagining:

433I don’t have time to get into the entirety of Pooh with you. Even if I were able to.

Because as you probably know, Pooh has his own Tao, now.

So let’s leave it here—there’s an immensity to Pooh. There’s a touch of eternity to all his bumbling; a bottomlessness to his most rumbly of tumblies.

There’s a stare into the open eye until the closed eyes open kind of Zen to Pooh.

He’s got Pooh-dist leanings, you could say.

I want to talk about everything that makes Pooh, Pooh. But I don’t even understand it all. So instead I’ll focus on a single point—my very favorite moment, from my very favorite character, from my very favorite story from the entire World of Pooh.

Which is my very favorite.

*

Here’s how it starts:

Christopher Robin has sent Pooh off…

View original post 632 more words

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