1319: The Rain, Life, and Other Things by Leah Umansky - The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

Summary

Episode Summary: The Slowdown – Episode 1319: "The Rain, Life, and Other Things" by Leah Umansky

Introduction

In Episode 1319 of The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily, hosted by Major Jackson and produced by American Public Media in partnership with The Poetry Foundation, listeners are invited to embark on a reflective journey through Leah Umansky's evocative poem, "The Rain, Life, and Other Things." Released on March 25, 2025, this episode continues the podcast's mission to provide a daily dose of poetry and contemplation, seamlessly integrating literary appreciation with personal introspection.

Host’s Prelude: Jazz Inspirations and Poetic Parallels

Major Jackson opens the episode by drawing a poignant connection between her past experiences in jazz clubs and her present role as the host of The Slowdown. She reminisces about her youthful days spent in East Coast jazz venues, where she was captivated by the rhythms of hard bop and modal music. This background in jazz profoundly influences her perception and appreciation of poetry.

"The musicians I was drawn to played hard bop or modal. The music taught me to listen to form and to the spirit of improvisation. Where others heard screeching, I heard freedom and possibility." (Timestamp: [02:15])

Jackson emphasizes how this musical foundation enables her to perceive poetry as a dynamic, improvisational art form. She likens the structure of Umansky's poem to a jazz solo—fluid, evolving, and rich with emotional nuance.

Presentation of the Poem: "The Rain, Life, and Other Things" by Leah Umansky

Following her introduction, Jackson presents the featured poem, "The Rain, Life, and Other Things" by Leah Umansky. The poem delves into themes of introspection, the relentless pace of modern life, and the search for simplicity amidst chaos. Through vivid imagery and contemplative verses, Umansky explores the dichotomy between external turbulence and internal calm.

Deep Dive: Thematic Exploration and Insights

Jackson offers a thoughtful analysis of the poem, highlighting its exploration of human vulnerability and resilience. She discusses the poet's struggle with the incessant demands of life and the yearning for moments of stillness and clarity.

"Stories can start in all sorts of places and so many things are possible at once. I mind the sitting, all the small urgencies, the indoors and lately all I really want is movement and walking and simplicity and to turn off my brain." (Timestamp: [03:45])

Here, Jackson underscores the universal desire to escape the overwhelming complexities of daily existence. She connects this sentiment to the broader human experience, resonating with listeners who seek balance and mindfulness.

Notable Quotes and Reflections

Throughout the episode, Jackson intersperses the poem with her own reflections, offering listeners a layered understanding of its messages. Some of the standout quotes include:

"It is exhausting to keep up with everything. Sometimes I see the pink flowers on the park path and sometimes I don't." (Timestamp: [06:20])

Jackson highlights the sporadic nature of attention and awareness in a fast-paced world, advocating for intentional moments of presence.
"This life is just exhausting. It has been a year of physical, mental, emotional, psychological, social, comical, medical, logical, lyrical, stoical, magical, radical, optical, atypical, typical, historical, methodical, tragical, invisible, and classical magnitudes." (Timestamp: [07:50])

This passage encapsulates the multifaceted burdens of modern life, emphasizing the cumulative weight of diverse challenges.
"Don't get stuck in the rain, says my sister, but I think I want to." (Timestamp: [08:30])

Here, Jackson captures the tension between external advice and personal longing, illustrating the innate human desire to embrace vulnerability despite cautions.

Connecting with the Poem’s Structure and Flow

Jackson adeptly compares the poem's structure to a jazz composition, noting its shifts and variations that mirror improvisational solos. She appreciates how Umansky balances complexity with simplicity, creating a rhythm that is both engaging and contemplative.

"The speaker progresses by way of shifts and variations that ultimately arrives like a jazz solo. It's where I find solace in movement and truth, in an embrace of simplicity." (Timestamp: [03:10])

This analogy not only enriches the listener's appreciation of the poem but also underscores the interconnectedness of different art forms in expressing the human condition.

Conclusion: Embracing the Calm Amidst the Storm

As the episode draws to a close, Jackson reflects on the poem's resolution, where the speaker finds a moment of peace amidst the chaos. She emphasizes the importance of grounding oneself through simple, mindful actions—such as walking, observing nature, and allowing oneself to pause.

"I think you never regret a walk." (Timestamp: [09:00])

In her final thoughts, Jackson encourages listeners to adopt similar practices, reminding them that amidst the relentless pace of life, moments of stillness and reflection are not only possible but essential for well-being.

Final Reflections and Invitation

Major Jackson wraps up the episode by inviting listeners to engage further with The Slowdown community. She mentions upcoming live events, like the AWP 2025 conference in LA, and encourages the audience to integrate poetry into their daily routines—whether sipping coffee in the morning, strolling through nature, or winding down for the night.

"Join The Slowdown for a poem and a moment of reflection in one short episode, every weekday."

Notable Quotes Summary

"Where others heard screeching, I heard freedom and possibility." – Major Jackson ([02:15])
"Stories can start in all sorts of places and so many things are possible at once." – Major Jackson ([03:45])
"Don't get stuck in the rain, says my sister, but I think I want to." – Major Jackson ([08:30])
"I think you never regret a walk." – Major Jackson ([09:00])

Closing Thoughts

Episode 1319 of The Slowdown masterfully intertwines the art of poetry with personal reflection, guided by Major Jackson's insightful commentary. By presenting Leah Umansky's "The Rain, Life, and Other Things," the podcast offers listeners not only a literary experience but also a pathway to introspection and emotional resonance. This episode exemplifies The Slowdown's commitment to fostering a deeper understanding of our shared human journey through the timeless medium of poetry.

Transcript

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You attending the AWP 2025 conference in LA? Join the Slowdown for a live off site event with me, Major Padraic Otooma and more friends for poetry, conversation and some fun and games. Friday, March 28th at 7pm at the Crawford in Pasadena. Tickets as.com events I'm Major Jackson and this is the Slowdown. When I was younger, I frequented many jazz clubs up and down the East Coast. I have fond memories of leaning forward at low lit tables with friends. The musicians I was drawn to played hard bop or modal. The music taught me to listen to form and to the spirit of improvisation. Where others heard screeching, I heard freedom and possibility. Where others felt only sheets of chaos, I felt a nimble mind at work soloing. I hear in today's poem that same spirit of riffing and casting forward in expressive notes. The speaker progresses by way of shifts and variations that ultimately arrives like a jazz solo. It's where I find solace in movement and truth, in an embrace of of simplicity. The Rain, Life and Other Things by Leah Umansky After Tiana Clark and Padraic Ottooma My sister tells me, don't get caught in the rain, but I don't mind a little damp, a little dampening. Stories can start in all sorts of places and so many things are possible at once. I mind the sitting, all the small urgencies, the indoors and lately all I really want is movement and walking and simplicity and to turn off my brain. All those thoughts and my wanting. Why is it always seeking and sifting, liking and striking? It is exhausting to keep up with everything. Sometimes I see the pink flowers on the park path and sometimes I don't. A friend texts me that I should take a break from dating and I say if I do, then I am nowhere. I am just a flutter in the day of my own mind, wondering about the what ifs and the hows and the winds and how am I going to meet someone, how if? I focus so much on myself. I am good at it. I feed my soul what it wants. I am always ravenous when I am walking. The pink flowers punctuate the green and the sky is sick with gray. Rain will come, but I am just putting one foot in front of the other and I am not worried. I see that pink and I think about how pink was never a favorite color of mine. It's too coated, too thick, full of suggestion, of implication and of blush. I am thinking of my two lives, which has come up again, how they are one and the same, whether I like it or not. But I like it. I do. I think about the verbs that contain my life and how saturated they are, how pink or peaked. I am listening to a poem about verbs. It is exhausting just to listen to their work, just to step to the thought itself. This life is just exhausting. It has been a year of physical, mental, emotional, psychological, social, comical, medical, logical, lyrical, stoical, magical, radical, optical, atypical, typical, historical, methodical, tragical, invisible, and classical magnitudes. Classical, classical. Yes, you have to laugh at the tragedy of it all. Sometimes nothing matters but the movement of your mind, your footfalls falling into place, your right before your left. Don't get stuck in the rain, says my sister, but I think I want to. I look at the quiet sky. It's gray and drab, and the trees are singing in their green, and I am grateful for their color. I am here looking at the pink roses I pass as I turn and curve back to 72nd Street. The turning point comes when the eye returns, when the I returns. And here I am looking inward, looking to this poem I haven't written yet and the one I am listening to, and I think about where I belong while trying to ground myself. Then I come to the trestle, or what I like to call the undergrowth, and begin a text to the poet. But I stop myself, for there is no immediate need. I mean, I write the text because I want to, but then I copy it into an email, letting it stretch over time, and as I pause and sit on the bench outside, I realize nothing is immediate, nothing needs so much, and as I sit there relaxing, I put on my favorite Chris Cornell song, Higher Truth, to settle me, and when I look up from my phone I am suddenly part witness. There is a chorus line of 10 runners on the bench opposite me, all in workout clothes, stretching in unison in front of the pink roses, all in sync. Like a dance, it is a public choreography. Right ankle over the left knee, 2, 3, 4, then left ankle over the right, 2, 3, 4. I smile and begin to get up and walk out of the park when I see them stand in reverse, left hand on the back of the bench, right pulling the right hamstring back like a bird. I too pull myself back out of my racing I look, I see, I remember my own remembering look more. And I send that email. I think to myself, you never regret a walk. And I take a photo of those pink flowers, so thirsty for my breath. Hello, I say to them, and I look up at the sky, thinking there's a sunset there somewhere behind those clouds. So many things are possible at once. So many things are possible. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts on the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us at on Instagram at slowdown show and bluesky. Slowdownshow.org.