Transcript
A (0:00)
Finding someone that understands you is hard because you're human and there's a lot of different humans out there. Eharmony helps you find someone you can be yourself with. You think no one would understand mourning a plant like it's a loved one or singing made up songs to your dog, but that's the type of person eharmony helps you find someone who makes you feel seen, heard, and understood. Get started today on eharmony. Out who gets you?
B (0:35)
I'm Major Jackson and this is the Slowdown the clocks have struck Another year so soon. I will box UP and Archive 2023 in the mental basement of my mind. Although I'm sure certain events of the past 365 days will reverberate in both predictable and not so predictable ways into the Future. Personally speaking, 2023 was a year of milestones. I will likely not experience so auspicious a year for a long time, receiving the Academy of American Poets Fellowship for Distinguished Poetic Achievement, publication of my sixth book, Razzle Dazzle, New and Selected Poems, induction into the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and hosting the Slowdown, this daily podcast. Yet this year violence and unrest pervaded my conscience. Wars whose travesties played out in the palm of my hand while commuting unprecedented leaps in technology engendered ethical debates with colleagues. The summer of 2023 was the hottest on record. These were once unimaginable events that I personally did not see coming, which made me feel at times powerless. So today I will not make promises to do better, to live healthier, or to save money. These are natural and valid attempts to regulate a future that is impossible to know. But I will abandon the ritual of unwrapping a fresh package of new resolutions which feel individual in nature. They perpetuate a myth of self sufficiency. Instead, I wish to live daringly in community and to accept the challenges our collective moment has to offer. I won't look away. In an attempt to live an anxiety free life, today's poem makes a powerful assertion that maybe what we bring to the problems of the world, to our sense of survival, is our attention and our joy. Counting this New Year's morning, what powers yet remain to me? By Jane Hirschfeld the world asks, as it asks daily, and what can you make, can you do to change My deep broken, fractured I count this first day of another year what remains. I have a mountain, a kitchen, two hands can admire with two eyes. The mountain actual recalcitrant, shuffling its pebbles, sheltering foxes and beetles can make black eyed peas and collards can make from last year's late ripening persimmons a pudding can climb a stepladder, change the light bulb in a track light for four years I woke each day first to the mountain, then to the question. The feet of the new sufferings followed the feet of the old and still they surprised. I brought salt, brought oil to the question, brought sweet tea, brought postcards and stamps for four years each day something stone did not become apple. War did not become peace. Yet joy still stays joy Sequins stay sequins Words still bespangle, bewilder. Today I woke without answer the day answers unpockets a thought from a friend. Don't despair of this falling world, not yet. Didn't it give you the asking? 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 and find us on Instagram loadownshow.
![[encore] 1032: Counting, This New Year’s Morning, What Powers Yet Remain To Me by Jane Hirshfield - The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily cover](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fimg.apmcdn.org%2F651e47127b36e4142927c7027c2fdb68157c960e%2Fsquare%2Fb46827-20240501-20240101-sd-2000.jpg&w=1920&q=75)