Good Life Project - Music & Poetry That Stirs the Soul: A Retrospective

Episode Date: December 31, 2020

Over the history of this show, we’ve been incredibly blessed to not only have hundreds of guests in the physical and now virtual studio for conversation but also live performances from a wide variety of acclaimed artists, many of whom are icons in their chosen form of creation and expression. The performances have ranged from unaccompanied to fully sound-designed spoken word, to a capella or instrument-accompanied live music. Many of these performances represented moments of emotion and awakening, connection. It’s been a kind of magical ingredient for me, as a lover of spoken word and music, to be able to share these with you over the years. So we decided to do something a little different as a sort of offering to you as we bring this year to a close. We culled through years of tape and pulled together today’s live performance super-cut for you, sharing a lineup of 11 artists, spread out over nearly 7 years of performances in the studio. Some, short and sweet, others longer-form and profound. All will make you feel, smile and, even just for a moment, transcend time and space and just be present in feelings. So excited to share these performances with you.You can find the full episodes of each guest included in this montage:Andrea Gibson: https://tinyurl.com/y9nds2ycAmanda Palmer: https://tinyurl.com/ybl7wfgzSekou Andrews: https://tinyurl.com/yco27duwHumble the Poet: https://tinyurl.com/y89pzjohKaki King: https://tinyurl.com/ycsldtc5Cleo Wade: https://tinyurl.com/yc8we3luMark Nepo: https://tinyurl.com/ybqu2crcJimmie Vaughan: https://tinyurl.com/ya4svdu4Morgan Harper Nichols: https://tinyurl.com/y9m35fp9Ali Handal: https://tinyurl.com/yall7ltbIN-Q: https://tinyurl.com/ybpwqy6jCheck out our offerings & partners: You Need a Budget: youneedabudget.com/GOODLIFE - free for 34-days (no credit card required) Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

So yeah, 2020, it has been a year. You know, we really wanted to figure out how we could wrap up this year and also tee up next year in a way that would help kind of close the books, turn the page and set us all up for stepping into a place of hope and possibility. We've seen a lot of best of 2020 episodes rolling around the podcast sphere. And it's been really interesting to see how our colleagues and friends have looked back and figured out how to even know what they would call the best of in a year that many have experienced as the worst of, or at a minimum, a year of extremes. And we thought about doing something similar, but then a different

idea came to us as a way to finish off the year. So over the history of this show, we have been incredibly blessed to not only host hundreds of guests in the physical and now virtual studio for conversation, but to also host live performances from a wide variety of acclaimed artists, many of whom are icons in their chosen form of creation and expression. And the performances they've ranged from unaccompanied to fully sound design spoken word to acapella or instrument accompanied live music. And many of these performances, they've represented moments of emotion and awakening and a connection. And it's been a kind of magical ingredient for me as a lover of spoken word and music to be able to share these with you over the years.

So we decided to do something a little bit different for you as a sort of offering as we bring this year to a close. We searched through our archives and we called through the years of tape and pulled together today's live performance supercut for you, sharing a lineup of 11 artists spread over nearly seven years of performances in the studio. Some of them are short and sweet. Others are longer form and really deep and profound. All will make you feel and smile and think and maybe open your heart even just for a moment. Let you transcend time and space and just be present in the feeling. So excited to share these performances with you. I'm Jonathan Fields, and this is Good Life Project. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here.

It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X, available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday.

We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were gonna be fun. On January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're gonna die. Don't shoot him, we need him!

Y'all need a pilot? Flight Risk. First up is poet and activist, four-time Denver Grand Slam champion, first poet ever to win the Women of the World Poetry Slam in Detroit, and frequent World Poetry Slam finalist Andrea Gibson. So their poetry focuses on gender norms, politics, social reform, and the struggles of LGBTQ people in the face of today's society. Andrea shares with us their piece titled The Year of No Grudges, which was kind of written as a love letter to a friend they were furious at at the time. It's this potent reminder to move through our days vigilantly awake to the fact that none of us are ever promised a tomorrow. And if anything, this year has taught us that whatever needs healing, today is the perfect day. So here's Andrea.

I recorded this in my basement at the beginning of the pandemic. And the music for this piece is done by an artist named Chris Parika, who is a close friend of mine. And I wrote this actually about a dear friend of mine named Buddy Wakefield, who is one of my favorite poets on earth. And he's one of my best friends. But he really made me angry one day. I got in this. I was so mad. I don't know if I've ever been more angry

at a friend. And in the middle of that anger, I decided to start writing, which I never do. I got this advice in college that you should never write unless you have some distance from a thing so you can see it clearly. But I began writing with the intention of shifting my anger to a place of gratitude. And I got about a few lines into this poem and loved him so much. I could not believe how quickly my anger shifted to appreciation. So it's called A Year of No Grudges. I think almost everyone tries hard to do good. And just finds out too late they should have tried softer. I've never in my whole life been level-headed. But the older I get, the more level-hearted.

And I think we make gods who look like us for a reason. I in spite of it all we trust we can be believed in when I don't believe in myself I try to remember I have walked on water like 700 times in Maine in the dead of winter where I come from you can drive a pickup truck from one side of the lake to the other and people have an unusually large amount of missing teeth and fingers but you can still sell them whitening strips and truck from one side of the lake to the other and people have an unusually large amount of missing teeth and fingers but you can still sell them whitening strips and wedding rings like crazy because where I come from beauty is in the eye of anyone who sees what's missing but can't stop pointing to what's still there. If there is no definition for love yet I think that's a good one.

I'm writing this on a day you did me wrong. I'm just a half a second outside the furnace of my rage and I'm trying to focus the steeple of my attention on all the teeth you still have instead of the ones I know you'd happily knock out yourself if it would keep you from biting anyone again. And that's how mistakes work if you're loving the right kind of people and you are the right kind of people. You walked on water so many times you know grace is slippery there's literally nothing anyone is more likely to fall from some sound advice i give myself like twice a second wear knee pads on the way to your ego andrea being right is boring rightness comforts only the tiniest parts of us and when it comes to hearts I want always to be a size queen.

Because that's how I found you. Lifting the spirits of everyone around you like hot air balloons. Just from the way you burn to be a better person today than you've been the day before. Burning to be better is my favorite quality on anyone. And you are on fire like a gay men's choir singing the halftime show of a football game. I have been dancing in the end zone since the day you taught me how to break every promise I have made to my pain. Taught me my wounds will never ever be bigger than I am. Thank goodness for you, champion of the unkillable. Yes, dandelion refusing to be picked for the bouquet. Five minutes into our first conversation, you knew I could take a punch better than I could take a compliment.

And you talked to me about that once and bam, I was angel gossip. There were God rumors flying around my suddenly unheavied head. I love you because you've never had a mirror face. Because the truth is nothing you could ever try to fake. So sometimes you look like a human scribble, like a three-year-old has colored you in, like you've got too many feelings to stay inside the lines of your own skin. But that friend, that is the masterpiece. I love you because we both showed up to kindness tryouts with notes from the school nurse that said we were too hurt to participate. But we learned how wrong we were.

And weren't those the best days when we learned how wrong we were and so got to grow into our goodness, throwing the peach pits of our old selves into the garden to grow sweetness, sugar. I'd pick you to be the captain of my chosen family tree. peach pits of our old selves into the garden to grow sweetness sugar I pick you to be the captain of my chosen family tree I pick you to throw the party when I leave this world knowing I'm gonna run death like a stop sign and keep going I pick you to finish all my half-written poems, even though you're terrible at writing poetry, I'd pick you to finish this one especially. This list of compliments, you'd be a hypocrite not to take, so take it. Before I remember, I'm mad at you, asshole, buttwad, only human on the whole planet who knows what I mean when I when I say God I mean everyone down here who understands that when I get to heaven I will refuse to call it heaven

if who put me through hell isn't there. Andrea's blend of spoken word, momentswriter, community leader, pianist, and ukulele enthusiast who simultaneously embraces and explodes all the traditional frameworks of music, theater, art, the industry, the listening experience, the viewing experience, the participating in. So since 2015, Amanda has tapped the patronage platform Patreon to fund her artwork with thousands and thousands of patrons micro-supporting her creations each month. And we had this deeply moving conversation in the studio about what really seemed like her magnum opus work, an album called There Will Be No Intermission. And this powerful, provocative, full-length, seamless integration of music and

sound design and stories and song really deeply moved me. As we wrapped our conversation, Amanda brought a ukulele with her and she pulled it out and played something special just for us. So here's Amanda. When you showed up today, you were carrying with you a small red case. I was. Can I ask you to play something for us? Yeah, let me go get it. I've never played this ukulele before. I have to tune it.

And I wasn't planning on singing this morning, so you're going to get the raw, unapologetic, non-warmed-up Amanda Palmer voice. There's two ukulele songs on the new record. One of them is called Bigger on the Inside, and one of them is called The Thing About Things. But given the theme of your podcast, I need to play an oldie, which is just, it's too on point not to play.

It's called In My Mind. Do you know it? You're about to know it. In my mind In a future five years from now I'm 120 pounds And I never get hung over because I will be the picture of discipline never minding what state I'm in and I will be someone I admire and it's funny how I imagined that I would be that person now

But it does not seem to have happened Maybe I've just forgotten how to see But I'm not exactly the person that I thought I'd be And in my mind in the far away here and now I've become in control somehow And I never lose my wallet Because I will be the picture of discipline. Never fucking up anything.

And I'll be a good defensive driver. And it's funny how I imagined that I would be that person now. But it does not seem to have happened. Maybe I've just forgotten how to see that I'll never be the person that I want to be. And in my mind When I'm old I am beautiful Planting tulips and vegetables Which I will mindfully watch over

Not like me now I'm so busy with everything That I don't look at anything But I'm sure I'll look when I'm older And it's funny how I imagined That I would be that person now But that's not what I want If that's what I wanted, then I'd be giving up somehow.

How strange to see that I don't want to be the person that I want to be. And in my mind I imagine so many things Things that aren't really happening And when they put me in the ground I'll start pounding the lid Saying I haven't finished yet I still have a tattoo to get that says I'm living in the moment.

It's funny how I imagined that I would win this winless fight. But maybe it really isn't funny that I've been fighting all my life. But maybe I have to think it's funny if I want to live before I die. And maybe it's funniest of all to think I'll die before I actually see That I am exactly the person that I thought I'd be Fuck yes I am exactly the person that I want to be.

So I love the way Amanda plays and sings with kind of a sense of joyful irreverence. Up next is Sekou Andrews. So I first met Sekou years back when we both performed at this intimate gathering in a double-wide trailer in old Las Vegas. And seconds into his spoken word piece, my jaw was kind of on the floor. I was mesmerized. Sekou defies every preconceived notion you might have in your head about the voice and the role of poetry in communication, society, business, and life. A school teacher turned actor, musician, two-time national poetry slam champion, entrepreneur, and creator of Poetic Voice.

In the studio with me, he shared an excerpt of a really powerful and fun piece called The Awesome Anthem, which pretty much exploded in the online world and became this viral phenomenon. So here's Sekou. This is The Awesome Anthem, which pretty much exploded in the online world and became this viral phenomenon. So here's Sekou. This is The Awesome Anthem. And this is, I'm going to try to jump into an excerpt, because it's a long piece. The moment I truly discovered the great I am

is the same moment I discovered how truly great I am. And I am not perfect, but I'm perfect like I am. I'm not beautiful like I used to be. I'm beautiful like I am, like the scar where a breast once was, like survival where a death once was, like the better where a best once was. Every gray hair, a trophy, every wrinkle fold, a story, every pound of fat, a challenge reminding me there is always something to pursue and always something to celebrate. That's why I never smile for no reason. That's a concept I don't believe in. You ain't never without a reason

to show off your teeth a bit, spread out your cheeks a bit, let your gums breathe a bit. If you can learn to reach deep for it, you can take yourself a piece of bliss and make yourself a feast of it. Like when you go buy a smoothie and they fill it too full making more than your cup can hold but instead of letting it spill all over what they do what they do they give you a little extra cup and you feel like you just won the smoothie lottery up in here awesome like that perfect day when the stretch limo driver picked me up from the five-star hotel to transport me to my first class flight after my sold-out show and curiously peering at me through the rearview mirror he asked what do you do for a living and with a pocket full of sand and an air guitar in my hand i replied i am a full-time poet

now roll up the damn divider. Awesome. Love it, man. Love it. Thank you so much. It's a fun piece, dude. Check it out. AwesomeAnthem.com. And the only thing that I ask is that you share it with somebody that needs to hear those words. Because that has been the biggest impact of that piece in my work is when somebody comes to me and says, yo, my depression clients are watching this and it's healing them.

My five-year-old son was struggling with this and he now says your awesome anthem every morning before he goes to school. Like, that's the joy of my life. That's the good life. Yeah. Love it. Thank you. So I don't know about you, but Sekou just kind of makes me smile. Next up is Humble the Poet, a former Toronto-based schoolte and a smile that basically never leaves his face, Humble draws audiences in to his world and opens it up to them in a way that kind of challenges conventional wisdom and goes against the grain with dynamic live sets that shake

convention and minds all at the same time. And in this excerpt, he shares a poem he wrote about his dad's experience of being an immigrant. Here's Humble. I'm Punjabi, which is North India, part of North India, the state. Bansh means five, ab means river. So Punjabis are people from the five rivers. And a big chunk of Punjab now exists in Pakistan. So it's a, you know, it's a loose reference to call us Indian. But my parents are from the India side, and they immigrated to Canada in the early 1970s.

And my father became a cab driver, even though he had a master's degree. And my mother had some college, but she ended up working in and out of different factories. So with my background, not seeing any type of representation in any type of media, unless you, you know, saw a comedy movie that was making fun of a brown guy for being a cab driver or, you know, the Simpsons having a pool at the Quickie Mart or, you know, anybody else in a convenience store or gas station. That's the only time I saw representation. And as a kid, my dad was a cab driver, so it made sense. You know, I wasn't offended. I just, just, these were my contexts of like, people don't look like me. And I mean, even up to this day, you know, I'm probably still one of the most prominent

guys with a beard and turban that people will see in mass media. I wrote a poem in honor of my dad called Life of an Immigrant. And it's one that I do love to share because I do feel a lot of people connect with it on different levels. So, they told him the grass was greener with an endless flood of possibilities. Katrina, watch him drown in debt. Land confiscated by the local government, so he flies high in a jet plane.

Plane clothes just exposed him to the harsh winters of life, but his wife won't know. About the sweat soaked in the bank, no sweat home. Boy getting grown, he starts to groan. His stomach's rumbling. Hungry for a better life, now he's stumbling. Over foreign phonetics and those verb tenses, they laughing at his accent.

It's not an accident, though. His master's in economics isn't honored. Most economic forefather to hop his ass in a cab and never bother getting out. That car or his dreams, memorize the road and collect the fare. It isn't fair. When they say you don't belong here with your long beard and the towel around your head. Hear what was said. Soak in the hate.

Can you relate? Life of an immigrant. The Apple Watch Series X is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you 8 hours of charge in just 15 minutes.

The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were going to be fun.

On January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him, we need him. Y'all need a pilot. Flight risk. In this next offering, I sat down with composer and musician Kaki King, who's considered one of the world's greatest living guitarists, known for both her technical mastery and for her constant quest to push the boundaries of the instrument.

So Kaki is known for her percussive and jazz-inspired melodies, energetic live shows, and the use of multiple tunings on acoustic and lap steel guitar, and there's really diverse range and different genres. She actually started out in her musical career as a drummer, and you can really hear that percussive influence in her playing. She actually brought her own guitar into the studio with her, this beautiful custom guitar. But when she saw the guitar that I had built hanging on the wall, she grabbed that one instead. In fact, I even kind of tried to convince her to use her guitar, but she wanted to use that one, which was an extra thrill for me. And you'll hear one other person a bit later who did the same thing. Here she shows her stunning and unique approach to playing.

So we're very fortunate Kaki has brought her guitar with her today. I don't know. There's an interesting guitar on this wall that I'm kind of into. So let's just kind of say whatever you want to play, just grab whatever's calling you and kind of swing the mic around. What do you call this? I haven't named it yet. You don't have to. I kind of feel like I do

actually. So I was just going to demonstrate that percussive, non-percussive thing. So the left hand is doing this. The right hand. But if I do... It becomes a totally different thing. That's drumming. guitar solo Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. guitar solo That was amazing. So Kaki's work kind of leaves me in awe. So appreciated her generosity. Next up is New Orleans-born, or maybe it's more appropriate to say New Orleans-born, artist, poet, writer, and activist Cleo Wade, who left behind a big career in the world of fashion

and media to focus on her art and really help shine a light on communities and issues that are close to her heart. She's also a multi-time author, including the bestselling book, Heart Talk, Poetic Wisdom for a Better Life, and Where to Begin, a small book about your power to create big things. In this clip, Cleo offers a moving poem from her book, Heart Talk. Could I ask you to read something from it as we wrap? Sure, sure. Is there anything that you feel like- Do you have one you want me to read?

Let me see. I'm looking at the book right now and Cleo can see it's got like multicolored tabs all over the place. I love when I see that. There's just so many beautiful thoughts. I kind of like this one. How do you feel about that? Yeah, sure. This one is called Love Never Lies. Shame never tells the truth. It tells you you are not good enough. The truth is you are.

It tells you you have to be perfect. The truth is you don't. It tells you your mistakes are fatal wounds. The truth is you heal. It tells you everything has fallen apart. The truth is you will rebuild. It tells you that you will stay sunken in despair. The truth is you will rise. It tells you you failed, you lost, and you got hurt. The truth is, you learned what to do next time.

You gained knowledge from your knockdown. And you found out just how strong you are. It says you will never make it. The truth is, keep going. For shame said you would never survive. And the truth is, you are still here. I just love the way that Cleo phrases ideas in her work and the sound of her voice. It really just kind of takes me somewhere, which is pretty similar to our next guest, but in a very different way. So next up, we have Mark Nepo. He's a poet, philosopher, cancer survivor who has taught in the fields

of poetry and spirituality for over 40 years now, and is also, I think, one of the most frequent guests on the pod over the years. He's the author of more than 20 books, has toured the country with Oprah Winfrey, and appeared on her Super Soul Sunday series. And today in this excerpt, Mark shares two poems from his book, More Together Than Alone, a compelling testament to the power of community and why it is so essential in our lives now more than ever. Here's Mark. Yeah. So let me read two, okay? Yeah, that sounds great. So this is really, you know, this was on kind of the 20th anniversary of the tumor vanishing from my head. And it's called Thrown Back, and it's in the new book. 20 years ago today, the tumor growing in my skull vanished, and I was thrown

back in the streets like Lazarus. Today, the rain is a fine mist, and I open my face for a long time, receiving water from the sky. All I can say is perhaps falling in love with the world is the bravest thing we can do. I only know that my heart grows stronger every year, a muscle gaining each time I love. And this rush of life is all we have. And still, as we struggle, we struggle to get out of it. Like a fish, we labor to make it to the sand as if that shore were heaven. And when thrown back, we can grow bitter if we think we've failed, or be humbled to accept that waking tomorrow in

all of this is being saved. And this is the final poem in the book Called The Sway of It All And so I lift my face from the mud The mud of my past, the mud of history The thick and ragged bark of how we think Everyone but our own darkness is the enemy I lift my face like a worn planet spinning on itself to get back into the light to say to no one, to everyone, it is an honor to be alive.

There's just something about the sound of Mark's voice that puts me at ease even when he's talking about hard things. So next up, we have Jimmy Vaughn. I am a lifelong blues guitar devotee. And Jimmy and his little brother, Stevie Ray Vaughn, who sadly passed in a helicopter accident, have always held a really special place in my Texas blues love and heart. Growing up in Dallas in the 50s and 60s, Jimmy started playing blues guitar when he was a kid and pretty much just never stopped. In this next excerpt, after this really beautiful and vulnerable conversation, Jimmy plays a bit of guitar for us. And similar to the experience I had with Kaki King, this one was really special because Jimmy didn't have his own personal guitar with him in the studio, but he gave me the great

honor of playing the guitar that I had built with my own hands. And I have to say, the guitar will never sound the same way when I play it, not even close. Between Kaki and Jimmy and some other people that had picked up the guitar, and you'll even hear our music for the podcast was played by our own family member, Casey Christopher Carter, on that same guitar. It has become an instrument that is infused with a whole lot of good juju from a whole lot of amazing people, and a great honor to have that hanging in the studio when we are actually in the studio for guests to just kind of pick up and noodle with. So here's Jimmy. Are you on?

Yeah. guitar solo guitar solo next up is morgan harper nichols who i sat down with in the studio as part of what we called our LA sessions, which we actually taped at the very beginning of this year, just before everything began to change. Inspired by stories and conversation and really everyday moments that so many of us take for granted, she shares her daily art on her wildly popular Instagram account. And in this segment, Morgan shares a poem from her latest book of poetry and art, All Along You Were Blooming. Here's Morgan. Would you read something? Oh, sure. Awesome. Absolutely. read something oh sure awesome i actually um if you wanted to pick something different also but oh i would love this one actually from your book just kind of really stuck out to me

yes and again if you want to choose something different no this is this is one of my favorites i'm so grateful you chose this one if you ever start to feel weary of the mundane and completely restless in all that has not changed, and rather numb to the mention of grace, let today be the day you make the mindful decision to find joy in the ordinary places. The white light between the bedroom blinds, the taste of rich, dark coffee grinds. For even though the extraordinary calls you and you feel its river running wild through your bones, and your heart is craving meaning and purpose on the other side of your unknowns, there are still these flickers of light and familiar tastes that are calling your heart to know even when you are still,

there are so many ways to find your way to gratitude. And the art is a line drawing of sort of like a window, a desk by window. And there's like a mountain scape beyond the window. That's just sort of like, for me, that was just a way of showing that there's always something beyond, but it begins right here. So like, there's always something, there's something more to this moment. And I think a lot of times when you think of like, I want more, I want more. It's like, well, I got to get on a plane. I got to go somewhere. And that's absolutely true. I love to travel, but it's like there's also more happening right here. And in the stillness, we can begin to see that. Yeah, I love that. To be continued... Don't shoot him, we need him. Y'all need a pilot? Flight risk. The Apple Watch Series X is here.

It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum.

Compared to previous generations, iPhone Xs are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Such moving storytelling and imagery. I really love how Morgan sees and then offers her lens on the world. And next up, this one is, I think, maybe from the farthest back in our Good Life Project archives. We had indie rocker, amazing singer, and guitar phenom, Allie Handel, in the studio. Allie grew up loving music, but packed her guitar and dreams of becoming a professional musician up in order to pursue a PhD in psychology. Eventually though, music called her home as it so often does for people who just

kind of have it in their DNA. And she became a stunning, stunning musician, guitar player, artist, and someone who bucks convention in an industry where it's not always welcomed. So here she shares an acoustic performance of her track titled, You Get What You Settle For. So this is a song, it's going to be on my next record which i'm about halfway through recording right now it's called you get what you settle for i'm talking about my philosophy from way back when yeah this is it there you go one two All the years daddy told me Don't look to the silver screen

Men will say about anything Except for what they mean Can blame a man for everything but who let him through the door baby baby baby no get what you settle for hear all they say but believe what they do It won't take all that long, a true color gonna bleed on through Complain about him endlessly, but you beg him back for more Baby, baby, baby, no no forget what you're set up for

oh oh forget what you're set up for yeah oh yeah forget what you settle for You can't get no satisfaction

If you never hold out for more Honey, I know it's hard But you gotta show him the door A better man's gonna come knocking With a whole lot of love in store And baby, baby, baby, you know You get what you settle for You get what you settle for Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,

whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, champion, award-winning poet, and multi-platinum songwriter, NQ, who has inspired audiences around the world through his live performances and storytelling workshops.

Inkyu is this powerful long-form storyteller in spoken word. This piece is a really moving example of how he draws you in, brings you along for a journey of discovery, then leaves you not just thinking and feeling, but some way different, which I think is a lot of the power of spoken word and music. Today, he inspires us with a healthy helping of raw truth, personal awakening, and vulnerability as he shares a poem titled Father Time. One of the things that you've written about really recently in your new book, Inquire Within, in fact, it kind of starts the book, I think it's the second poem in there. It's a poem about your dad. Yeah. Which I know in the past, you've been okay referencing very generally and saying, I'm not ready to tell that story. And this is a poem where you kind of step into it in a big way. Are you open sharing that?

Yeah, I am. But actually, I wrote that poem years ago. I would say that that's the oldest poem in the book, but it was an aspirational poem at the time. And I would say that it's only in the last five years that I've kind of been able to embody it. And a lot of my poems are, you know, it's either purging or praying or both. And so when I'm writing, I'm talking to myself. And that's why I think I don't really strategize my inspiration in that way because then I would be manipulating myself first before I even get to the audience.

So if I'm able to explore something that I need to be reminded of, it helps me get there quicker in my life. Before you dive in, what happens then that makes you say, okay, so I wrote this a long time ago, and it was aspirational, and it was largely for me. I just need to get this out. What happens that makes you say, okay, now it's actually time to make this public. Because this becomes a conversation or this becomes at least a public statement. What makes you okay with that? Like, how do you bridge that gap?

Yeah, I mean, I have been performing it for a long time, but there's only certain audiences and situations where it makes sense. For the most part, I would use this for my poetry workshops. Because if you want people to be vulnerable, you have to lead by example. You can't ask someone to do something that you're not willing to do yourself. It's actually irresponsible.

So this was one of the poems that I would use. And then I would ask people to explore a moment that changed who they are in their life. Ultimately, this poem called Father Time is about forgiveness, but it's also about the first time I met him, which was when I was 15 years old. And so that was something that became a doorway for other people when I would do these workshops for them to delve into themselves and be willing to get up and share and be vulnerable from a place of strength. But other than that, there weren't a lot of, I mean, I get

hired all over the country and the world to perform, but there's not a lot of environments where this poem made sense to share it. And then as I grew as a human being, and as I changed, the meaning of the poem changed for me as well and I learned some of the hidden messages that I had unconsciously put in there you want to share with us sure it's called father time I'm staring at the number wondering if I should call. I can hear the tick-tock from the clock on the wall as it meshes with the thump-thump beat of my heart. Sometimes getting something started is the hardest part. I didn't meet my dad until I was 15. I'd seen his photograph,

but his image was sickening. A coward with a dick, but no balls to back it up. See, when he left me as a kid, I had cause for acting up. The funny thing about hate is the person you hate doesn't feel that hate. You feel that hate, but wait. The wait can be too much for a person to take. Personally, I was hurt, so I just locked it away. I was angry all the time, and I didn't know why. I couldn't handle my own rage, so I would hide it inside, pretending everything was fine became a daily pastime. Time passed and I started to believe in my own lies. I took it out on my mom because she raised me alone. The rage that I couldn't own had left me totally numb. It was like landmines in my mind that I didn't understand.

So when the boy inside cried, the young man outside yelled. I think I learned about my masculinity from TV. The people weren't real, so I knew they couldn't leave me. I would sit there for hours right in front of the tube. The images that I saw were my depiction of truth. It was manhood in a box, and I bought into it. The censorship of anything inside of me that's sensitive, the sentence is a lifetime of tears suppressed in a stone face, an overblown ego they've distracted through a paper chase. Back when I was nine, I imagined in my mind that my father was a spy working for the FBI, and that's why he couldn't stop by, write a drop of line. He was off saving our lives from the bad guys. But that was just a lie that I used to get by so that you wouldn't see the tears welling up in my eyes when you're rejected by

the person that you're created by. You secretly feel like you don't have a right to your life. I thought if I confronted him, then it would make it all right. But since I couldn't forgive him, it just recycled my spite. I remember meeting him for the first time. Every time a person passed by, I would ask, Mom, is that him? I look a little like him, right? No?

Oh. Well, what about that guy? And that was what it was like to meet the man that gave me my life. To shake his hand and look into his eyes. We talked till he apologized, then said our goodbyes. I walked away on my own, then I began to cry. Now, for years after that, I acted like it was all resolved. I told him what I thought, so I figured problems solved. But it just re-evolved.

My insecurities were eating at my mental health. I took it out on the world because I hated myself. That's when I finally decided I needed some help. I opened up. I started writing and sharing about my past. I got honest with myself and started chipping at my mask. I looked into the mirror and confronted what I saw, accepting the reflection by embracing every flaw,

then directing the connection into breaking down the walls by reflecting the perfection of the God inside us all. I stopped focusing on everything that I had been hateful for and started focusing on everything I could be grateful for. And personally, there is a lot I can be thankful for. If pain is dragging you down, just cut the ankle cord. That's when the weight lifted and I really started living. It's when my hate shifted and I really started giving.

It's when my fate twisted. It was like an ego exorcism. Your mind state can be the most powerful of prisons. My father never played catch with me or gave advice. But if nothing else, that man gave me my life. And that's enough for me. If that is all he could ever give, because I'm appreciative for every day I get to live. And even though I don't need my dad to validate me, I thought that I should write this poem to thank him for creating me. Because every moment that we are alive is like a gift. And if that's not enough to forgive, then what is?

I'm staring at the number wondering, if I should call. I can hear the tick-tock from the clock on the wall as it meshes with the thump-thump beat of my heart. Sometimes getting something started is the hardest part. I pick the phone up. The dial tone begins to sing. I punch his number into it and it begins to ring, ring, ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Hello, Mike. Hey, man, it's, uh, it's Adam. Your son. So I love how NQ inspires with storytelling and craft and commitment to truth telling, which years, I start to write a little something,

and somehow it tumbles out as a poem. Though I have no training, I don't have any idea what the rules or form are. I just write what I feel and what I hear, which interesting is very often when I write, I actually write with a spoken cadence in mind. And that happened a few years back when I wrote a piece called The Window. It was about awakening to a place of agency and possibility and no longer just kind of sitting behind a window looking out at the world that seems to buzz around you, but stepping through and claiming your seat in the theater of things, of life, of experiences. So I figured I'd bring us home with a little live performance of my own. This, I have to admit, makes me nervous as hell

because I am not a spoken word artist or a poet, but as we wrap this year, the message felt right. And I also felt called to stand in my own vulnerability, my own imperfection, to share that with you, what I see, what I feel, how it comes out, and maybe invite you as we start to think about how we want to create or co-create the world and the year that we're stepping into, to go to that same place, to let go of expectation, to let go of the perfectionist ideal, and just do the thing you're here to do and share it in whatever way comes to you. So here it is, the window.

You speak about it as if it were a portal to your potential. What lies through it you see, O God, you see, yet you cannot touch or breathe or be. Waiting and wondering, when will someone come to lift the pain, the pain? Till you wake, should you wake? To the window's truth, there is no savior pushed up sleeves, no unsung hero, only you. Still you deny, who am I to set myself free? It's been so long painted over, nailed down, prematurely bound, yet in the stillness before the pain, you come to believe there is no path to freedom that does not go through me. So you come to the frame, feeling, groping, raging into time-worn sutures, shaking, heaving, teasing, kneading. Bathe with efforts due, flesh on wood, slowly it yields. Yawning open,

you breathe shallow, testing sips, then deeper, deeper, inhaling possibility, potential once obscured, now revealed. Exhaling the well of loneliness and futility, a complacent disconnection. You pause, lean in, and look. No longer a part, but not yet a part of that world out there. And then it happens. Reality tumbles softly over the sill, into the reservoir of your crossed legs, conspiring into the soul. To what use, asks its voice, will you put this portal? Will you simply sit and gaze, flirting with the scent of a life that calls illuminated yet still sedated? A denizen

of breath and sight, subsisting on wisps of essence, yet never taking your seat? With friends? To feast, to weave, to span the chasm from what if to this shall be? Or will you in some way, your way, traverse the frame to set ablaze a world that only you can claim? And then you notice a deeper truth. The window, it seems, is not an end, but an invitation, a passage to invention. It was never about the window, but the will to step through it. And then you wonder, how can I? And then you realize, how can I not? So I think it's time to bring it home. I hope you appreciated all of these different performances and that they all touched you in some different way. If you're curious about the Fuller Conversations, every single one of those performances, they happened in the context of really beautiful, open and moving, full-length conversations on the podcast. You can just check the links in the show notes and check out all the individual episodes to hear more about the people, the backstories, how they got where they got, what they were thinking when they were creating their work, and dive into those archives in our library. So excited to be able to share that with you. We will be back shortly with another episode or two as we step into the new year with some thoughts about how to

reflect on the year behind us and then set up this new year, given the context, given the reality of what we've all sort of navigated in a way that allows us to move into it from a place of openness, spaciousness, and as much as humanly possible, grace and ease. So excited to have been on this journey with you throughout this year, and I'm really looking forward to continuing it in the year to come. I'm Jonathan Field, signing off for Good Life Project. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist,

whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X. Available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone Xs are later required. Charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday. We've been compromised.

The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were gonna be fun On January 24th Tell me how to fly this thing Mark Wahlberg You know what the difference between me and you is? You're gonna die Don't shoot him, we need him Y'all need a pilot?

Flight Risk