[encore] 677: Practicing by Ciona Rouse - The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

Summary

Episode Summary: [Encore] 677: Practicing by Ciona Rouse | The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily

Release Date: July 3, 2025
Host: Major Jackson
Poem Featured: "Practicing" by Siana Rouse

Introduction

In this encore episode of The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily, hosted by Major Jackson, listeners are treated to a poignant exploration of vulnerability, impermanence, and the human condition through the lens of former host Ada Limone. Drawing from her deep well of introspection, Ada delves into the uncertainties of life and the solace found in poetry, culminating in her heartfelt rendition of Siana Rouse’s poem "Practicing."

Ada Limone’s Reflections on Life and Mortality

Ada Limone opens the episode with a contemplative meditation on the unpredictability of life and the inevitability of death. She shares her personal strategies for coping with uncertainty, emphasizing the importance of living in the present moment.

“I try to imagine future scenarios to see if I'm prepared. But if the last three years have taught me anything, it's that I cannot be prepared for all the scenarios. Life is full of terrific and terrifying surprises” (01:26).

Ada touches upon her admiration for Buddhist philosophy, particularly its acknowledgment of mortality. This philosophical underpinning provides her with a framework to accept the transient nature of existence, fostering a sense of peace amidst the chaos.

“I sometimes imagine the world without me in it... as acknowledging the deep and inevitable truth of life, that at some point death will come to all of us” (02:10).

She candidly expresses a desire for longevity, blending hope with the acceptance that certain aspects of oneself will inevitably fade over time.

“Honestly, I'd like to live forever, or at least until 120. I'd like to still be writing poems... But even if I could live that long, there are parts of myself or of my life that couldn't stay around that long. Some things would be lost” (04:15).

"Practicing" by Siana Rouse

Ada transitions seamlessly into her presentation of Siana Rouse’s poem "Practicing," offering her unique perspective before the recitation.

“Today's poem does that work of exploring an inevitable truth of what it feels like to try to prepare oneself for a whole new way of living in the world” (05:00).

Poem Highlights and Analysis:

"Practicing" navigates the theme of impending blindness, blending scientific imagery with emotional resonance. The poem serves as a metaphor for confronting the unknown and the fragility of perception.

Imagery of Darkness and Light: The poem begins with vivid descriptions of vision loss, portraying it as a cosmic event.

“I have glaucoma, which means a cloud overcasts the sun of my sight until there is no light” (05:30).
Scientific Metaphors: Rouse employs astrophysical terms to encapsulate the disintegration of sight, creating a bridge between personal experience and universal phenomena.

“Or maybe instead the black hole of my iris pulls the gravity of periphery closer and closer until it stampedes a cattle of stars in my eyes” (05:45).
Emotional Undertones: The poem conveys a deep sense of vulnerability and acceptance, illustrating the internal struggle with inevitable change.

“I will eventually. And so I practice Science too, knows little about black holes, meaning they mystify” (05:55).

Ada’s Concluding Thoughts

Following the poem, Ada reflects on the interplay between scientific understanding and personal emotion. She underscores the limitations of language and knowledge in fully capturing the essence of human experiences.

“I know nothing of blindness and too little about science to accurately describe my future sight spaghettified... hoping it knows how to carry nothing but constellations inside its orbits” (06:00).

Ada encapsulates the essence of practicing acceptance and finding beauty within the inevitable uncertainties of life, both in her reflections and through the medium of poetry.

Conclusion

This episode of The Slowdown masterfully intertwines Ada Limone’s introspective narrative with Siana Rouse’s evocative poetry, offering listeners a profound moment of reflection. Through the exploration of themes like mortality, unpredictability, and the pursuit of understanding, Ada and Rouse invite us to embrace the present and find solace in the transient beauty of existence.

Notable Quotes:

Ada Limone: “Life is full of terrific and terrifying surprises. I never know what's coming next” (01:26).
Ada Limone: “I sometimes imagine the world without me in it... as acknowledging the deep and inevitable truth of life” (02:10).
Ada Limone: “I will eventually. And so I practice Science too, knows little about black holes” (05:55).

For those interested in daily doses of poetry and reflection, The Slowdown continues to offer curated selections that resonate deeply, fostering a collective pause in the midst of daily routines.

Transcript

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Major Jackson (1:00)

Hey, it's me, Major Jackson. We're reaching into the archive to bring you some of our favorites. Here's one from Ada Limone's tenure as host. Her thoughtfulness and deep love of poetry made her time on the show very special. I hope you enjoy this selection from the archives.

Ada Limon (1:26)

I'm Ada Limon, and this is the Slowdown. I have always been interested in how we plan for the future. I try to put a little money away now and again for a rainy day, as they say. I try to imagine future scenarios to see if I'm prepared. But if the last three years have taught me anything, it's that I cannot be prepared for all the scenarios. Life is full of terrific and terrifying surprises. I never know what's coming next. I can only be here at this moment and try to be somewhat flexible. This may sound odd, but I sometimes imagine the world without me in it. I visualize all the life around me going on without my physical body still moving through its edges. I don't think of it as morbid, but as acknowledging the deep and inevitable truth of life, that at some point death will come to all of us. I am not a Buddhist, but I've always admired that. A key tenet of Buddhism is acknowledging our own death. For me personally, it can actually bring a sense of peace to remember that life will go on without me. It's a quick way to put things in perspective and recalibrate my own sense of urgency towards things that are generally not so urgent. That doesn't mean it's not scary sometimes or just really, really sad. Honestly, I'd like to live forever, or at least until 120. I'd like to still be writing poems, sitting under an old tree I planted, petting my dog that has also managed to live to 120. I like this life, and I'd like to keep it for a very long time. But even if I could live that long, there are parts of myself or of my life that couldn't stay around that long. Some things would be lost. Today's poem does that work of exploring an inevitable truth of what it feels like to try to prepare oneself for a whole new way of living in the world. Practicing by Siana Rouse I walk, eyes closed, down the hall, hands brushing our bumpy wall lightly. What are you doing? My love asks. Practicing, I say. I have glaucoma, which means a cloud overcasts the sun of my sight until there is no light. Or maybe instead the black hole of my iris pulls the gravity of periphery closer and closer until it stampedes a cattle of stars in my eyes, mind all the light my brain uses to kaleidoscope a galaxy in my head, bones of stars bejewel my sockets, gas, plasma, dust, city lights collide and scope. I know nothing of blindness and too little about science to accurately describe my future sight spaghettified, but the doctor says with certainty, quite certainly I'm too young to not go blind, he says. I will eventually. And so I practice Science too, knows little about black holes, meaning they mystify, meaning they elude even the knowledgeable, like the doctor who so convincingly says I will without saying when or the end of a poem unpretending, which also practices also goes long when down dark holes, feeling for its way, hoping it knows how to carry nothing but constellations inside its orbits.