Before we share this meal, let us remember how it came to us.

This food was born of warm sunlight, rich soil, and cool rain.
As it nourishes our bodies and minds, may we be grateful to those who cultivated it, those who harvested it, those who brought it to us, and those who prepared it.

And as we eat, and what was once separate from all of us becomes part of each of us,
may we also be grateful for what we here have in common and for what brings us together.

We all begin life utterly dependent on others, and most of us will end our lives in much the same way, and every good work we accomplish involves helping others and being helped by others in turn.  So then, our gratitude in this moment is true and common sense.

by John Ciardi

What lifts the heron leaning on the air

I praise without a name. A crouch, a flare,

a long stroke through the cumulus of trees,

a shaped thought at the sky–then gone. O rare!

Saint Francis, being happiest on his knees,

would have cried Father! Cry anything you please

But praise. By any name or none. But praise

the white original burst that lights

the heron on his two soft kissing kites.

When saints praise heaven lit by doves and rays,

I sit by pond scums till the air recites

It’s heron back. And doubt all else. But praise.

(1958)

A few months ago I got a call from my old friend, Tripp Fuller, inviting me to be a guest on his curiously popular theology podcast, Homebrewed Christianity. Needless to say, I jumped at the chance, mainly because I knew that Tripp and his crowd are confident enough in their various versions of faith that I didn’t have to be too careful with them.

The audio quality isn’t fabulous for some reason, and the conversation itself is pretty twisty, but you’ll know if it’s your cup of tea after 10 minutes, and if so, here’s a really nice potful.

Link HERE. Pop-out player HERE.

I’ve gotten some wonderful emails lately, but I’m sharing this one because the poem at the end of it really does capture the essence of Humanize Me 106. Thanks for paying attention, Polly, and for sending me such a gem.

Hey Bart

Just listened to your episode ‘Sitting in a Car Contemplating Finitude’. I mean… dayyum! Made me feel all the feels. The episodes where it’s just you alone are some of my favorites. It feels intimate, and raw and present and alive. You got me with this finitude thing my man. Part of me wanted to hug you because I knew the pain you were feeling and part of me wanted to hug you for expressing such a deep feeling we don’t talk about much. It felt good to hear it spoken out loud. It took some of the sting out of it.

You’re killing it with the podcast, my friend. Very proud of you.

Polly

PS- Here’s a poem that really knocks me sideways. I think it describes the way you were feeling in that rental car in Cincinnati, looking at your old neighborhood.

Molly the Brave
by Jim Harrison

Molly was the bravest
In April she would swing out
over the river on a rope
tied to an elm branch. There was still
ice along the bank and one day
her body was found down by the weir
with a bruised head, which meant she hit ice.
One summer evening she hugged me in her wet
black bathing suit after I brought her a milk shake.
My blood became hot and moved in all directions.
When we caught frogs to eat their legs
she said, ”We are animals.” And on the hill
by the river we illegally picked trillium.
All the boys wanted to marry her.
We kept putting the wildflowers she loved
on her grave. More than sixty years
later I see dearly-that no one gets over anything
least of all Molly by the river,
swinging up through the air—
a bird.