Finding Peace in the Chaos: Lessons from Elizabeth Bishop’s “Little Exercise”
What if the storms in your life weren’t enemies to fight, but restless visitors seeking a place to sleep?
Little Exercise
Elizabeth Bishop
Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily
like a dog looking for a place to sleep in,
listen to it growling.
Think how they must look now, the mangrove keys
lying out there unresponsive to the lightning
in dark, coarse-fibred families,
where occasionally a heron may undo his head,
shake up his feathers, make an uncertain comment
when the surrounding water shines.
Think of the boulevard and the little palm trees
all stuck in rows, suddenly revealed
as fistfuls of limp fish-skeletons.
It is raining there. The boulevard
and its broken sidewalks with weeds in every crack,
are relieved to be wet, the sea to be freshened.
Now the storm goes away again in a series
of small, badly lit battle-scenes,
each in “Another part of the field.”
Think of someone sleeping in the bottom of a row-boat
tied to a mangrove root or the pile of a bridge;
think of him as uninjured, barely disturbed.
Finding Stillness in the Storm: Elizabeth Bishop’s “Little Exercise”
Elizabeth Bishop’s “Little Exercise” invites us to witness a tropical storm not as a catastrophe, but as a restless creature seeking rest. Through her precise imagery, the storm “growls” like an uneasy dog, and the rigid boulevards of modern life are stripped of their artifice—revealing palm trees as “limp fish-skeletons” and cracked sidewalks thirsty for relief.
In contemporary society, we are often overwhelmed by the “badly lit battle-scenes” of global crises and digital noise. We live in a world of rigid rows and “broken sidewalks.” However, Bishop offers a profound shift in perspective. The poem concludes not with destruction, but with a figure sleeping in a rowboat, “uninjured, barely disturbed.”
This applies to our modern hustle by suggesting that we do not always need to fight the storm. Sometimes, the most radical act of resilience is to remain “unresponsive” to the lightning—to find a way to stay tethered and calm while the world around us shifts and “freshens.” It is an exercise in mental detachment and finding internal equilibrium amidst external chaos.
As you read this poem, ask yourself:
In the “badly lit battle-scenes” of your daily life, are you the lightning, or are you the one sleeping peacefully in the boat?
