In this episode, Pádraig Ó Tuama shares what it means to learn to begin embracing life’s complexities with curiosity and questions. He delves into the profound impact of time, highlighting the wisdom that comes from shared experiences. Pádraig’s insightful anecdotes about meeting others who have navigated similar struggles emphasize the transformative power of empathy and connection. Through his poetry, he invites readers to contemplate the layers of meaning and significance in their own lives, fostering a sense of introspection and self-awareness.
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To force yourself into the lessons that only time can tell can be difficult. If somebody has a chronic illness and they've had it for five years, that can be difficult for people around them to know how to speak. But there's something about meeting somebody else who's been through that too, where time has done the work in both of them.
Welcome to the one you feed throughout time. Great thinkers have recognized the importance of the thoughts we have. Quotes like garbage in, garbage out, or you are what you think ring true, and yet for many of us, our thoughts don't strengthen or empower us. We tend toward negativity, self pity, jealousy, or fear. We see what we don't have instead of what we do. We think things that hold us back and dampen our spirit. But it's not just about thinking. Our actions matter. It takes conscious, consistent, and creative effort to make a life worth living. This podcast is about while other people keep themselves moving in the right direction, how they feed their good wolf.
Thanks for joining us. Our guest on this episode is podreg Otuma. He's the host of On Being's Poetry Unbound and the author of Poetry Unbound, Fifty Poems to Open Your Life. Padreg is a poet with interests in language, violence, power, and religion. Feed the Beast is his most recent collection, with Kitchen Hymns, a volume of original poems, and an essayed poetry anthology, Poetry Unbound Poems On Being with each Other, both forthcoming in twenty twenty four.
Hi Padrag, Welcome to the show.
Hi Eric, nice to be with you.
I'm really happy to have you on. I've wanted to have this conversation for several years now, since I saw you at the On Being gathering. I'm glad that we're finally able to do it. We're going to be discussing a number of your different books, one of which will be Poetry Unbound fifty Poems to Open Your World. And I know you also have a new work of poetry called Feed the Beast also, and we'll have links in the show notes to all that. But we'll start like we always do, with a parable. In the parable, there's a grandparent who's talking with their grandchild and they say, in life, there are two wolves inside of us that are always a battle. One is a good wolf, which represents things like kindness. And bravery and love, and the other is a bad wolf, which represents things like greed and hatred and fear. And the grandchild stops and they think about it for a second. They look up at their grandparent. They say, well, well, which one wins? And the grandparent says, the one you feed. So I'd like to start off by asking you what that parable means to you in your life and in the work that you do.
I've been thinking about this a little bit eeric in preparation. I suppose I'm interested in the hungers of both of the wolves. You know, you said greed and hatred and fear for the bad wolf, and I think hatred and fear are manifestations of some deeper hungers. So yeah, whenever I hear that parable, and I've heard it before, I've always wanted to go a bit deeper in the hungers of both wolves, and to recognize that maybe there's three wolves or five or yes, but maybe the hungers of some of the wolf that has deemed the bad one have intelligences underneath them. Maybe they're directed in a poor way, but there's something to be learned from both.
I suppose, Yeah, that's right. Go well, I agree with you. I don't think there's two wolves inside of us. I think I've you know, I could probably count thirty without even trying to inside me. Say a little bit more about that. You've done a lot of work in conflict resolution over the years, so you have encountered people who hate each other. Yeah, right, they come in hating each other. Talk to me a little bit more about the hunger underneath that. What have you learned is the hunger that's sort of fueling that, or what are some of the hungers I'm curious.
Yeah, Well, in any situation where there's people who are representatives of groups that are being brought together, where there's longstanding hate and predictable hate occurring, there's many things. There's many layers going on. You know, maybe there's deep grief and fear about the future, it's fear for safety. Those things can go on. But there could also be a profound sense of group belonging. You know, I know that if I demonstrate my hate for this other group, there's another group that will say to me, hey, you really belong to us because you perform your hate very well, and so hate can be an initiation in that way. So underneath the practice of hate. In that way, there can be grief and shock and worry, as well as a certain intelligence of how it is that we make certain sacrifices in order to belong to a group. There can be fear as well, in the sense of it can be easier to stick with the performance of a hate that you know than risk the possibility of opening yourself up to learning something about the other that might shock you a about them, and then be about yourself inside a room. Sometimes I think that you know, when it comes to people who have had a long standing hates towards each other in groups, I suppose occasionally it's possible that two groups can have equal but opposite power, and usually there's disproportionate power on one side, and then usually there's an argument about what the disproportionate power is and who has it. Often a group with power doesn't want to acknowledge that they have power, because then with power comes accountability, you would hope. And so those things too are present in a room. So there can be a hunger to acknowledge some of the journey of learning that you've come on, because that might mean that therefore you'd be open to some more accountability, So all of those things can be present in a room.
Yeah, yeah, we.
All know this, though you don't just need to be a conflict mediator to know. You know this because of your friends or your family, or because of where you vote, or whether maybe you don't vote, but you know, in the environments where polarization happens, there's always a lot of dynamics and you can feel them very clearly.
You can if you're looking to feel them. But many people aren't, right, they're happily polarized, you know, their content in that space. I think there also probably has to be a big element of deep resentment over what's happened in the past. Right, There's been a lot of harm done or perceived harm anyway.
Yeah, harm or perceived harm. But I think even groups of people who are very happy in certain performances of polarization. You have a group of friends or a family, or you know, mostly people have circumstances in their life where they do have to live with subtlety. Even those who say they don't, there is some relationship in their life where they are having to think, well, no, I need to think about this in four or five levels, and so partly I think that is a great resource for mediation, is to say, what are the relationships in your life that you have to think about? Their important to you, but you have to work at it, have to think what are the skills you use there very very naturally, and what would it be like to think about using those in this room? And what's the risk of using those skills in this room? And somebody would go, yeah, I love the person we're talking about in terms of my family, but I don't love people here. Or the person in my family annoys me, but people here might hurt me, you know so, And then suddenly you're talking about something very interesting in terms of the multiple skills that all of us have.
Yeah, yeah, that makes a lot of sense. So in your book, in the Shelter, you throughout the book are saying hello to lots of different things, right, You say Hello to the lists and the day and the tiredness and the coffee and the coffee. Hello to the happy accident of the changing story, Hello to the fear of fear, Hello to here, Hello to the storm. It goes on and on. I could do one hundred and fifty of them. There's a lot of them. What are you saying hello to today.
I'm saying hello to COVID booster feeling like I have COVID. Okay, I'm saying hello to a year that has had a grief in it and trying to trans pay attention to the way that grief works. I am saying hello to deadlines, and I'm saying hello also to the need for asking for help. Those are some of the things. Also saying hello to a world in war, and saying hello to a world that there's war about what the war is about.
Yeah, yeah, those are all things to say hello to. You just talked about grief there, and grief is something I've been dealing with some of also, And somewhere you quote the Irish poet Patrick Kavanaugh and you say that he recommends that you live at the heart of the emotion. Time has its own work to do, and you know, one of the things that I've been reflecting on as I go through a difficult time is living at the heart of that emotion, like really giving ourselves to it. What the work is that time is going to do on us isn't obvious at that point, you know, I often refer to sort of you know, there's that saying when one door closes, another door opens, Right, But I often think we don't talk about the dark hallway in between. Right, one door closes and the other isn't open yet, and you've got a period of walking in the dark and having to faith that this is doing something in me and for me, but you don't see it. Yeah.
I think about that line from Patrick Cavanet every day. I actually have it on the mug that I'm drinking tea from at the moment. Okay, I got it printed on there, but that's only recently. I've been thinking about that line for a long time. You know. One way of reading it. The line is from a poem of his called Having Confessed, and it's instructions to somebody who has just been to confession, Catholic confession, you know, and he's in a certain sense saying, what would you know about the state of your soul? You know, confession The idea is to say, here's what I did wrong. And Patrick cavin is taking confession very seriously, but also taking truth very seriously in a psychoanalytical sense, the sense of how difficult it can be to know what we're talking about. So the poem starts off by saying, having confessed, he feels like he should go down on his knees and beg for forgiveness for having dared to view his soul from the outside. Lie at the heart of the emotion. Time has its own work did and so I think what the poem is is an invitation to notice, to pay attention. I don't take it that it's an invitation to wallow. I don't think that's a wise thing to do. I think it's helpful to notice, and also to find something to keep you busy enough. And also I know for me, certainly in the last year and has been a year of difficulty, there has been a way in which it's been a necessity to regularly remind myself of the world that I live in a world where I'm going through something difficult, but that's just one. There are wars, there is hunger, there's climate change, and to not think about what I'm doing with my money, or to think about how I'm keeping aware of those things, not to overwhelm me or not to minimize what I'm going through either, but simply to just think, well, here's the world that I'm in, and to lie at the heart of the emotion of that and lying at the heart of it. I love that line. But again I don't see it as wallow. I think of it as notice.
Yeah, yeah, I think that's so interesting. It's such a nuanced line between wallowing an emotion and being open to it, between you know, looking at things outside of us to give us perspective versus minimizing, you know, using that to minimize what we're going through. These things are very they're very nuanced, you know, in your word there, which is to notice and pay attention, I think is the key, Like is to keep checking in like where okay, where am I here? You know, Oh boy, what's happening today? They're pretty self involved the last couple of days, like completely self involved, okay, trying to turn the direction outward. Yeah. Oh I've been going, going, going for a couple of days and haven't even you know, like it just keeps shoving the hard thing aside to keep moving. Well, maybe it's time to pause and allow that hard thing a little bit of time, you know, kind of in my heart. And so it's all very nuanced.
And your question too, was about time. You know, that line of time is its own work to do, you know, there's jokes about is there an app for that? About anything? And I don't think there's anything new in wanting quick solutions, but there's something very old and saying quick solutions don't last necessarily, and so time has its own work to do. There are certain things that I'll only recognize and come to terms with when I am the age that somebody else was when they went through it. So I'm forty eight now, But when I turned thirty two, I began to think about my dad in a particular way because he was thirty two when I was born. And I found myself thinking, you know, when you're younger and you have these expectations about how sortid parents should be. And then when I started to get to the age that my parents were when I was born, or when I was ten or twenty, something changed in me where I thought, God, am mighty sure, I don't know what I'm doing. What kind of a parent would I have been to the twenty year old me? Bewildered one, I'm sure that's not working. Of time has its own work to do, which is that to force yourself into the lessons that only time can tell can be difficult. If somebody has a chronic illness and they've had it for five years. That can be difficult for people around them to know how to speak. But there's something about meeting somebody else who's been through that too, where time has done the work in both of them. Not that necessarily their circumstances are in any way similar, but there has been a work of time in them. Just something like that, And you can always recognize when you're around somebody who has a wisdom of time in them, where their anxiety isn't pressuring you into rushing through something that you haven't been put through yet.
Exactly makes me think of that rocal line. Have patience with everything that remains unresolved in your heart. You know, another thing that you do is that if somebody asks you if you believe in God, you answer with a story from your day. I think I understand that correctly, so I can't resist you believe in God.
I went to a pub last night with a friend, and it's a pub that used to be in Irish Bar in New York that I used to go to fairly regularly before when I lived really nearby. And so the woman Joanne, who is the main bartender, recognized me when I went in, and it's been over a year since I've been in there, so you know, I remind her of my name, just because I'm sure she's loads of people she recognizes. But I just noticed the skill with which she was warm but wasn't asking too much, the ease and the welcome, which is about, you know, running a good business, but also the way within which I think she has practiced the art of deep familiarity without in any way asking people to explain themselves. I was really struck by the almost therapeutic level of levity and familiarity that she holds in her ways of responding to people. And I'm assuming that it isn't just me who notices that in her put many other people to Molly's on Third Avenue at twenty third as the place to go if you're in New York, Kay find againness.
If you need to figure out whether you believe in God, head to Mally's. I love the way you respond to that question in that way. I'm sure it would leave many people unsatisfied with that answer, but I love it. That's the answer. Nonetheless, it is.
The answer today. Yeah, yeah, Do you believe in God? Is a question that is that's about asking our minds to do something that I suppose I'd like to say, I find it difficult from my mind to do, which is to imagine something outside of what we understand existence to be. It is to go into the mysteries of the universe and to ask what the emotion of an atom is. It is to ask what the design or the intelligence of a quark is. What do I know about any of that? And when it comes to theology, I've spent many years studying theology, so it isn't that I'm just meandering around vaguely. I've thought a lot about it, and the more I've thought about it, the more I have become convinced that it is the material reality of life in terms of what am I doing to help others stay alive? What am I doing to stay alive? What are we doing for the planet? What am I doing to notice the world that I'm in? That this is my response to the question of God. I like the question of God, not because I believe in God, but because I like the attention that asks me to pay to meaning, to matter, to vast uncertitude. So therefore I always want to answer the question of do you believe in God with the story of the day or the story of the night before, in case there isn't a story of today.
My primary spiritual practice for a number of years has been zen Buddhism, and you know, we do coons and zen right, And you know, do you believe in God? Is essentially a co on to me? Right, Like you said, there isn't an answer answer right, And in a zen co on there isn't an answer answer. There's a mystery underneath the answer, or there's a realness or immediacy underneath whatever the answer might be. A lot of the zen coons are about inhabiting a different place than you normally do. And so you know, I think, do you believe in God? You've turned it into a personal co on in that way, which is a really beautiful thing.
Christ Tippett has this great thing when she has been facilitating public conversations about something that might be divisive, where she might have had four people as part of an interview and two of them have one particular approach to a public issue and two have a different one, and she'll say, before we talk about what you're doing, and you know, we're not writing a disagreeing but before we talk about what we're doing, let's take this public issue and tell me what's arounded for you tell me what it opens up. And so within the context of that, therefore people begin to speak about their own story. They begin to speak about a big change that happened in their life, something that has been a central meaning in their life. And that isn't to say, oh, we'll all arrive at nice neutral, middle of the offence, middle of the road, fence, dwelling opportunity. No, in a certain sense, what it does is it is it sharpens their disagreement because there has been the possibility of understanding. When you say this, actually you're also saying many other things. So what gathers around me in the question of God and the question of belief in God is growing up Irish and Catholic. I was born in nineteen seventy five and is growing up Irish and Catholic and gay and the secrecy that religion and Irishness brought along with that. It has been living a life that, since I was eleven or twelve, has been very heavily influenced by evangelicalism, British and American evangelicalism. I've never been in evangelical but I have been around a lot of evangelicalism for twenty years from i'd say the age of twelve to thirty two. That tinged words like Christian. For me, I don't like that word because mostly what that meant for the people who was asking me was I want was have you stopped being yet? They might be happy to hear that I have or gay? So yeah, if you stopped being Catholic or gay, yes to one. Note to the other, not that I've stopped being Catholic. Catholicism is in my DNA. If you cut me, I bleed the rosary my God. But it's also family, It's also history when it comes to the question of God. When you look at the question of Irishness in God and irishness and religion, it is years and years and years of study, three degrees in theology. All of those things are around there for me. And it's disappointment with religion as well as having had the most beautiful experiences sometimes when going on a retreat to a monastery, or still putting on choral music when I need some quiet music to accompany me.
Or yeah.
So it's all of those things it's going every year to handle this Messiah if I can. All of those things are all gathered around the question of that I don't have children, but it is the recognition that I think, were I to have had children, I would have wanted to have brought them up in a religion, because I think it's really good to have a story against which to make your own decisions, to have the conversation within the particularity of a tradition in order to be able to say, actually, I reject that tradition because what work that tradition has done to give you the Because and I am a better person for having been so religion infused along with all the pain that that brought. I am a much better person for having had that, and having had the language and the literature of the struggle in order to figure out what I think.
I love that last point because there are a lot of people who I know, a lot of people listening to this podcast would relate with this, because I've heard from many of them that, you know, spirituality is of interest to them, but they have really bad experience is from a particular tradition. But to look at it in that way as if that tradition, like you said, gave you something to define yourself. Yeah, not define yourself, it's not the right word, but to fight against it, to fight against you know, and to see what you really believe and see the ways in which it falls short, and see the ways in which it really does give beauty. There's a nuance in there that is I think, done correctly, is helpful in the spiritual path versus the sort of I've never really had any belief in any particular thing in any particular way. It's just all very nebulous.
Well, I'd be curious to hear anybody who has never had any belief in any particular way as to how they'd say it. But certainly, one of the things that a religion does is it provides a normative narrative for you, a way within which your religion is saying, here's a way to look at the world, or way to look at time, a way to look at afterlife. If their religion believes in that, here's a way to look at virtue and ethics and surprise, all of those things. And I think everybody has stories that they use to hold their life together, and that might be a religion and it's and it's parables. It might be a cultural tradition and it's parables. It might be the story of survival of a people who've been impressed. It might be the story of an identity and finding dignity in that. It can be any of these things. It could be a national constitution. What I think is important is within all of those is to have the capacity to ask very very serious questions. And if questions aren't allowed, well then it's a dangerous system. I applied that equally to Catholicism as I do to the LGBTQI community. I've heard some people say, you know, when you join the LGBTQI community, you know everything's much better because you know everybody there is just there for love. Like that's bullshit. No, they're not there as ordinary as any community of people, and there's all kinds of ambitions and desires and jealousies and other things going on. If I can't question the narrative, well then it's a dangerous thing because then all kinds of threats about betrayal and expulsion and exile come in. Are you are proper gay?
You know?
And all of these kinds of things can happen that can happen in the local yoga studio as well as in the local library, as well as in the environmental activism group, as well as in the religiously evangelical group. All of those groups will have to pay attention to how do we respond to the person within our group who asks questions about the story the group tells about itself. And that's a test for the group. And suddenly we're not talking about the great and moral narrative at all. We're talking about what's happening in the room between the people.
Just this morning, I was listening to a punk band I love called Against Me, and they have a song called I Was a teenage anarchist and it's about exactly this. Like they got into the punk rock community because it felt like it was free and it was open. But over time, right as soon as the singer Laura Jane Grace, as soon as she started to think differently or asked questions, she started to be ostracized. Right, the scene grew too rigid and the scene itself became the new authority. Yeah, you know, and I think you're right that any group I have wrestled with this in my own life in finding spiritual community and sanga in that. I think for a lot of years I would wander in and I would see those same dynamics and they would cause me to wander out instead of realizing that any group I wandered into was going to have some element of that in the question is how is it dealt with? How is it handled? Because every group of people is ultimately a group of people and in all our messiness.
Yeah, yeah, I'm very interested in taking old stories, biblical stories, and I am nobody knew in doing this, but to take an old story to try to enter into it through a curious pathway over you know, from the writings that have come over centuries, people have been doing that. Jewish midrash has been asking questions about the gaps between the words for millennia. So there's one here which is really about asking questions about belonging and taking the story seriously enough to take the story seriously. There's a text early in the book in Genesis where the Adam and the Eve character you know, have eaten from the tree and then they've suddenly realized they've eaten the fruit of the tree, and they've suddenly realized they're naked, and the God character comes down and is looking for them, and they're hiding because they've realized they're naked. And then the God character makes some coats of skins for them. The text says, now God made Adam and Eve coats of skins and dress them. And the poem is called the Butcher of Eden. And when he was finished, he scraped fat from the backs of stretched skins, wiped the blood so the seams, bit the thread with teeth, and said, dress yourselves in these. And they said, what is this verb? God shoved his knife into the earth and said, it's like make believe, but for your body. They looked at all the meat, still steaming from when it was alive, said eat and watched while beasts sevene and fed on beasts of eede.
Hm, that's beautiful and beautiful as even the wrong word, maybe beautiful in a very striking way. Yeah.
I'm interested in what it means to take any story that has been part of shaping me and to look into his sedges. The story of Ireland, the story of you know, Irish nationalism, the story of religion, the story of being a man, the story of being a gay man, all of these to ask serious questions and to do so knowing I can. That's my job, and it can be done playfully, it can be done intelligently. It can be done, you know. But to become overly defensive of those stories is to miss some of the subtlety and the brilliance and the wildness that's present in those stories. Yeah, that's the thing. But the better the story is in terms of gathering a community around the wilder it is.
There is a poem that you love which is also one of my favorite poems, and it's called Lost by David Wagner. It's one of the few poems I know by heart. I know about eight to ten by heart probably, and there's a line in there that he talks about, you know, you must treat being here as in present, in this location and in this place. You must treat it as a powerful stranger. And I've heard you talk about how that powerful stranger isn't always benevolent. You know, that powerful stranger could be challenging, and that to be here takes an ability to you say, I think, a robust ability to tell the truth. Say a little bit more about any aspect of that poem or what I just said, or it's one of my favorites, and I just when you said it was one of yours, I was like, well, we got we should talk about that, because that's quite a poem.
I do love the poem. It's a poem of instruction, really to somebody who's lost in the woods. And the title is last and the opening sentences just twowards standstill, the trees around you and the bushes near you or not lost wherever you are, it's called here, and you must treat it as a powerful stranger. There's a way, and it can be helpful if the circumstances are correct, where maybe you could take that and just think, oh, let me relax into the moment, let me relax into the now and look around them. It's all lovely. And when those circumstances lend themselves to that kind of ease of heart of looking around, just a readjustment that's pleasant and maybe even beneficial. That can be great, and that pump can work on that level. But wherever you are treated as a powerful stranger is an invitation to recognize that, you know, the thing that you might be lost in might be a global pandemic, it might be a war, it might be a relationship that has suddenly changed very very seriously. It might be something threatening. And powerful is an amoral word. It just says, this thing is a powerful stranger. What's happening. You don't know what's happening. To be at perhaps to be ready to defend yourself, but also to look. And I really like the neutrality of that instruction, which is to say, just look, it's a powerful stranger. And what's your relationship with that powerful stranger going to be? And what can you do during the time, what is within your capacity to respond to during the time there might be nothing like in the context of a global pandemic. You know, for most people, it was just you know, try not to get it, try not to spread it.
You know.
I wasn't out making the vaccine or you know, yeah, and so like what I could do in the response to that powerful stranger was to do that, but then also to try to support people whose jobs were putting them in harm's way while they were trying to help people not be in harm's way or all of those things. I've got friends who are medics, have got friends who you know, a friend who's a firefighter, have got friends who were involved in teaching, you know, and that they were out and doing work all the time. And the question for me is in terms of what can I do in response to the powerful stranger of COVID that is not getting in the way of the fact that their jobs are certainly more demanding. While other people were complaining about not being able to leave the house, other people were like, I'd like to get back to my house because I'm exhausted with the extra work I have to do. All of those things come to my mind when I think of the powerful stranger that circumstances can be.
We've given our Instagram account a new look, and we're sharing content there that we don't share anywhere else, encouraging positive posts with wisdom that support you in feeding your good wolf, as well as in behind the scenes video of the show and some of Ginny and Iz's day to day life, which I'm kind of still amazed that anybody would be interested in. It's also a great place for you to give us feedback on the episodes that you like, or concepts that you've learned that you think are helpful, or any other feedback you'd like to give us. If you're on Instagram, follow us it at one underscore you underscore feed and those words are all spelled out one underscore you underscore feed to add some nourishing content to your daily scrolling. See you there. I'm going to attempt to bring two different things together here from that poem and something that you've said. You have mentioned you like to reread things, but you say part of the concern in rereading a text often is that in so doing you read less and recognize more. You glide over familiar words, you glide over familiar presumptions, and so with time you aren't reading what's there, you're reading what you think is there. And another line from two lines from that David Wagner poem, are no two trees are the same to Raven, No two branches are the same? En right, there's this newness all the time and ideally right, you know he's positing that for them, that's the way in which to look at things. And I'd love to hear you expound a little bit on some ways in which rereading, which is something that I do in my Zen tradition, and other things ways that we can do that that give us that perspective of Raven and wren.
Well partly, I think if you want to. I mean, I really like rereading what I know other people that don't, so I mean I don't know enough to know whether people should or shouldn't do it. But if you want to reread something, it can just be helpful to ask yourself, what am I noticing this time that feels new, or what felt monumental for me the last time I read this book that this time actually doesn't feel so monumental. You know, you might think, oh, I was close to tears when I got to the end of that chapter the first time I read it. Maybe that won't happen this time, but you'll be noticing something else. You'll be noticing that you've thought about that chapter a lot since in the intervening time. Or it might be that there's a hero character that you have thought to be very fine, as you've thought about your own work or your responsibility and your family or whatever. And it might mean in the second time reading it, or the third or the twentieth, that you begin to think, I think that character has flaws, which isn't to decimate them, but it is to see them in a new way. I think to reread something is to bring your own life back into the conversation with the book, and that can be anything from you know, the Lord of the Rings, to a scripture or a country's constitution. Also because just you know, you mentioned Eric that you know poems off by heart, and just because you know them off by heart, it doesn't mean that you've exhausted the possibilities of what those poems can reveal to you. To know something off by heart is to have it ready at your disposal, to bring into conversation, to the circumstances within which you're brought to recite it. And that's going to change it because the audience is not just you, it's what's happening to you in the moment, and then the timeless words that you're reciting. William Waters is a great book called Poetry's Touch, which is looking at the word you in poetry, and he's saying that poetry seeks an audience, and the audience isn't just the first person to read it or the first time that person reads it. It is the changing circumstances of a life as you return again and again to something that is so important that you've learned it by heart or you've kept a bookmarkting it or you've had it printed out.
Yeah, A couple of things you said there really struck me. And I think that being in conversation with you, know, I was in twelve step programs for a number of years of recovering heroin addict, and we would have big book meetings, right, the AA big book, and you would read the same chapters again. I mean, if you kept going to the meeting, right, you kept sooner or later you circle back to all of it, and it was somewhat new every time. But I think it was made new by the fact that I knew that I was going to probably have to disc us it and I was probably going to have to say what it meant to me. And there was an easy path there, which was to say the same super wise thing I said last time, right, But there's a deeper way in which it says what does this mean now? And so I think that idea of asking good questions and of considering yourself in conversation with is a really great thing. Like I had never thought of Powerful Stranger in the way that you referenced it, right. I think I was more reading the poem in that sense of relax into the Woods right, like be present with what is, but suddenly recognizing like, oh, powerful stranger, that might not be a good thing, recast the entire poem. And so I think there are ways of re engaging with text, and you've helped point out, you know what several of those are.
Well, the powerful stranger might be that hungry wolf you're talking about.
Yeah. Another thing that you have talked about that I found really intriguing is you talk about in circles of faith or spirituality that we give a lot of time to the testimony what being involved in that spirituality or whatever has done for us. And certainly, if I reference AA right, AA is eighty five percent testimony, and that is in many ways a really good thing. Right Me, hearing someone else's testimony that they were able to get sober and get through what I got through was really helpful because it gave me hope. But you point out that there's another side to this, and it's that you know, if someone is saying Jesus fed me when I was hungry, we hear that, but those who are still hungry feel bereft. Or if someone's talking about the deep piece they get from meditation, and we meditate and we're not getting deep peace, right, we feel like there's something wrong with us or we're failing in some way. So say more about that, because I think that's a really nuanced point that testimony can be either really encouraging, but it can also be deeply discouraging. Yeah.
Well, I think any testimonial is a certain form of initiation, which is about do you have the story of becoming a member of this group or reaffirming your commitment to this group in a way that you can share it with the group and the group will accept. If you're ever in a group like a twelve stre group or something like that, and somebody comes along and says, oh, this is my first time, and then they share something and it's very powerful. People might go, my god, it feels like you've been one of us for years. You see. That kind of affirmation is true and powerful and kind. But I wonder who else is hearing that and thinking nobody's ever saidcted me about my story and not just the point of view of comparison. There's always going to be reasons to undo your own sense of stability with comparison, but it is to say what is being rewarded and what is being ignored and what is being punished. A testimonial is a certain way of communicating that you're a member of a group, and I'm always interested in a group. Is it easy to join and difficult to join? Is it easy to leave? Is it hard to leave? Does somebody else make you leave? Who gets to say? What gets to stay? These are serious questions about what's happening in any group reaffirmation narrative experience. There is a border around what kind of stories are likely to be told, and the braver groups, I think, allow for the stories that are being told to include elements of deep criticism. People might say, I hate coming to this group. I keep coming because it helps me in this part of my life, but actually certain things really annoy me, and not just because I'm grumpy, but because they really annoy me. That's a really fine capacity that a group can have to whole critique, and what that can do is to signal to other people, oh God, I don't need to drink the kool aid. I can just think does it help, rather than do I believe absolutely everything that the group proposes about itself? And testimonial based groups, I think always have to pay attention to how much of their own ideology is being affirmed. It's a certain form of benevolent group hostility, seemingly benevolent group hostile ability that can come across if all of the stories that are chosen or are rewarded in a particular way are of a kind that demand obedience or demand and stick at it until it works for you. Well, what if it's not going to work. Whatever kind of effort and pain is being demanded of the storyteller to fit in, does the group have the capacity to hear? Actually, your demands don't work for everybody, and some groups too, and those groups I think can do something very interesting.
Yeah, it does strike me as we talk about this, there really are I hate to use these words. I'll use them for ease of purpose, you know, although I don't even want to use them. Good groups and bad groups. But that's not what I mean to say. But to your point, you know, I can think of groups I've been in where there's absolutely no room for believing anything different, you know, or even questioning. You know, when I talk about AA right, I'm not talking about a monolith. Right. That's the thing I often think that I want to say to people is like, don't go to a meeting and think you've experienced AA. You need to go to a bunch of meetings to see because you know, in my town of Columbus, I could point you to some groups that I think are some of the most beautiful things on the planet, and I could point you to some groups where I'd be like, I really I wouldn't advise that. But even in some of those groups, people are getting what they need exactly.
Well, that's the thing.
Yeah, And so you know, it's really difficult to judge. And the other reason I love groups is I do think that if we can do it, it shines a real light on ourselves and how we respond to other people and what comes up in us. It's a different opportunity for healing than in one on one conversation because group, I think we all react to groups. We show up and we're new, and we don't know the people, and we're instantly judging them and wondering what they think of us. And there's all this stuff going on, and that can be really instructive to watch and learn and be like, oh, isn't that interesting?
Yeah, for sure, there's no such thing as a perfect group, and I wouldn't want to join a perfect group. Some groups that are doing really, really important work have to become very self protective. And one of the consequences of such self protection is that maybe they fortify their borders to an extent that might not be needed. Or maybe they say, oh, let's not have that story because that story will query the narrative of healing that we're all about. That narrative will always put its way through that There'd be no doubt the group will face its own hostility. That will always happen. And so I think in all the flawed groups are part of It's just a good idea to recognize we're not looking for a perfect group, and so therefore relax. Yes, the recognition that the group is complicated is an indication that it's a group and that it's doing its work. And if your group is set up for communication and you find that actually your group doesn't have great communication, that doesn't mean you're a bunch of hypocrites. It just means you're doing the work. And the question is is can you talk about the lack of communication in your group? About communication? If you can't, well then you have work to do. But can you go what a brilliant group that can face its own subtleties, face its own hostilities, face its own threats. Those kinds of groups are brilliant.
Indeed, what is a poem that is really alive for you?
Now?
That's not one of your poems. You've collected fifty of them. You do a podcast I don't know how frequently you do it called Poetry Unbound, where you bring a poem out and you discuss it. I'm curious what's really alive for you now? Or I'll give you a choice b on that what poem has felt really alive to you is you've gone through grief.
There's a poem by Larna Goodison. She's a Jamaican poet. She was the poet Lauriate of Jamaica for a number of years, and it's an older poet of hers called this is a Hymn hymn and it has the cadence of a lullaby, cadence of consolation. And she's basically in the body of the poem looking out to people who have felt overlooked or outside, and she's saying, this is a hymn for you. What's great is that it isn't proposing some doxology. It isn't proposing some creed that people should believe in. Isn't proposing religion. It isn't proposing that these individuals were right.
Or wrong, or you know.
It isn't making an enemy out of whoever it is, whatever group that they were wishing to belong to, into which they don't belong. It's just saying, here's a hymn. Here's a small moment of something that you can recall with a simple melody. Ultimately, that's what a hymn is. It has a simple enough melody that you know, within hearing your verse and a chorus, you should be able to continue to sing it wrong. I love the humility that she has to say this is a hymn and not explain whether him is. It's like somebody was just saying, here's your constitution, here's your constitution, here's your constitution. Somebody might say you need you to find what a constitution is, and the response is to say, no, here's yours.
Here's yours.
And she's offering that out. And I think that is a beautiful, gentle poem, But underneath its gentleness lies a restraint in the writing to not try to justify what she's making. The offering and restraint in that way is an indication of extraordinary artistic control. And I love the artistic control that Laura Godis demonstrates in that old poem of herse. Yeah, you'll find it online. This is a hymna goodis Well.
We will put a link to it in the show notes. So we're nearing the end of our time, but I wanted to end on a topic of prayer. You speak fairly eloquently on prayer, and I could read a bunch of different things that you've written, but I'm going to just tee up one thing and I'm going to let you just then go wherever you want. And you say that true prayer only really needs one thing, and you've said it's a recognition of need. Say more about where you are with prayer right now, what you believe that sentence, or anything you want to say about prayer, and maybe even for maybe a slight spin for people who are like, eh, I don't know, prayer doesn't sound like it's for me. And again, we're not trying to talk anybody into prayer, right that's not our job. But it is always nice too, I'll talk you out of it.
I'm very good at that.
Yeah, all right, I've teed it up. You do with it what you like.
Sometimes I prefer to think about desire than prayer. What is it that you want? What is it that you want to ask for? Prier in French is where we get the word prayer from an English it means to ask, and yeah, what is it that you want to ask for? And what's your relationship with your asking? A silly story. At the beginning of COVID, I had been overseas and so I had to very quickly come home to Ireland because at that stage everybody was worried that the airports in different countries were going to close, so I didn't want to be stuck overseas for a long time. Anyway, my suitcase, a small suitcase, got absolutely trashed on the way back, irreparably.
That's okay.
It was a global crisis, so I thought, I'm going to need to buy a new suitcase. So there was a particular kind of suitcase that I liked. It's made out of recycled materials, so I kept tony on the company's website. Nobody was going anywhere, so I was in no rush, and because they only make from whatever recycling materials they have, the collors tend to all be one collar for a while because they've just gotten a big shipment of something. Anyway, after a while, you know, a couple of months where I checked the website maybe every ten days or two weeks, a color came up that I liked, so I bought the suitcase. Lovely. It arrived a week or two later, and to my shock, though, I found myself going back on the website of this company just looking at what new colors came in, not thinking, oh, I might have chosen the wrong one because I liked the color that I bought. But I missed my looking, I missed my wanting, I missed my desire. That the fulfillment of desire in itself can be a crisis. The silly example of the bag can indicate something much more complicated for us. It might be that you think I'm looking for the one they were a romantic partner, and yet when you find somebody where you think this feels like a great fit, you still might find yourself missing looking. Or you might think that job that I really want, that promotion, that recognition, that I really want. When I get it, there will be something in me where my yearning, my desire will be ceased because it will have been gratified, and it probably won't. Your hunger will find a new way to look. And so for me, the question is about prayer is not about where it's going to, but where it's from. And what's my relationship with my desire?
What?
Writing? Walking?
What thinking?
What quietude? What talking to my friends? What being honest about what a damn hypocrite I am? What practices of that kind do I have to help me acknowledge the complicated way within which desire lives in me and to find something that's good enough.
To hold that.
You can call it prayer, you can call it meditation, you can call it talking to your best friend, you can call it whatever you want, provided it's doing the work. And that I think is necessary because our desires have many levels to them, and they can drive us, and the question is where, oh they drive us? That's what comes to mind when I think about prayer.
That's beautiful. We are at the end of our time. You and I are going to continue in a post show conversation where I want to explore this idea of desire and fulfillment and craving and the distinctions.
Of all that.
And we'll also have you read a poem or two of your own. Listeners. If you'd like access to the post show conversations AD free episodes special episode I do each week called Teaching Song and a Poem and the pleasure of supporting something that matters to you, you can go to one feed dot net slash join Padreck. Thank you so much. This has really been a wonderful conversation. I really appreciate it.
Thanks Eric, It's love good to be with you.
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