Transcript
Greenlight Advertiser (0:00)
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Oregon Lottery Representative (0:33)
In the summer, all of Oregon is our playground thanks to our incredible park system. That's why it's so cool that Oregon Lottery gameplay like video lottery or cash pop helps support tons of parks projects statewide like accessible trails at Silver Falls State park or upgrades to your favorite dog park in Newburgh. It's just one way a little lottery play for many Oregonians can add up to a lot of good the Oregon Lottery Together we do good things. Lottery games are based on chance and should be played for entertainment only. Must be 18 or older to play hey there.
Podcast Host (1:05)
It's major. As we take a look back at the Slowdown's deep well of episodes, we're revisiting some standout moments from past hosts. Today, we're going into the Vault to bring you an episode from Tracy K. Smith, one of the voices that helped shape the Slowdown into what it is today. This is just one of the many special selections from our archives.
Tracy K. Smith (1:34)
I am Tracy K. Smith, and this is the Slowdown. Rain hammers down onto my roof as I write. It's one of my favorite sounds like the night is thrumming its thousand fingers onto my house. How can there be so many raindrops? How have they not been exhausted? If I listen discerningly, I can hear the difference between the droplets hitting my house and those landing in the trees, persistent a blanket of sound covering everything. Tomorrow the ground will turn to mud. More leaves will litter the slick street, but the pines, the laurels, and whatever else has held onto its green will look happy come morning, well rested. My son's piano teacher told me the other day that worrying helps nothing. Does she know me already that well, or was she talking, perhaps to herself? There's time to resolve once more about what to become. When I feel the urge to cower, I want instead to choose, to rejoice. When I feel pitiful, pointless, lost and afraid, I I want to remember tonight's rain racing from however far it's traveled to reach my house, hurling itself onto my roof, calling to me at the top of its voice. Today's poem is Listen by Barbara Croker. Its message of calm and gratitude is one I want to learn to offer myself, especially on days when peace feels far away. Are there people out there who live always with that gratitude, that sense of the world with its simple gifts being all the plenty they seek? I'd like to be one of them for more than just an hour at a time. Can I get there by resolve, by practice, by force? Maybe they are simply people like me who have perfected the work of trying, who've learned to hang on a little longer each day to the thrill of waking. Worrying helps nothing. The rain falls. Then, as a matter of course, it leaps back into the sky. Listen by Barbara Croker I want to tell you something. This morning is bright after all the steady rain, and every iris peony rose opens its mouth, rejoicing. I want to say, wake up, open your eyes. There's a snow covered road ahead, a field of blankness, a sheet of paper, an empty screen. Even the smallest insects are singing, vibrating their entire bodies, tiny violins of longing and desire. We were made for song. I can't tell you what prayer is, but I can take the breath of the meadow into my mouth and I can release it for the leaves green need prayer. I want to tell you your life is a blue coal, a slice of orange in the mouth, cut hay in the nostrils. The cardinal's red song dances in your blood. Look, every month the moon blossoms into a peony, then shrinks to a sliver of garlic, and then it blooms again. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily by go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter.
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