We Can Do Hard Things with Glennon Doyle - How to Find DELIGHT Today (and Every Day) with Ross Gay (Best Of)

Episode Date: May 31, 2025

Ross Gay teaches us how to notice delight and joy in our everyday lives. We discuss: concrete ways to rediscover and capture joy every day; how to rebuild your “delight muscle”; how to dissolve the myth of disconnection between us; and how to “unknow” our people so we can delight in them. About Ross:  Ross Gay is an American poet, essayist, and professor committed to healing the world through observing and articulating joy, delight and gratitude. He won the National Book Critics Circle Award for Poetry and the Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award for his 2014 book, Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, which was also a finalist for the National Book Award for Poetry. A devoted community gardener, Ross is a founding board member of the Bloomington Community Orchard, a non-profit, free-fruit-for-all food justice and joy project. A college football player, he is a founding editor of the online sports magazine Some Call it Ballin'. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Ross Gay is an American poet, essayist, and professor, I think at IU, right? Yep, yep. Though Big Red, my mom said to say to you. Oh really? I guess that's a thing. Who is committed to the rigorous work of observing and articulating joy.

He won the National Book Critics Circle Award for Poetry and the Kingsley Tufts Poetry Award for his 2014 book, Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude, which was also a finalist for the National Book Award for Poetry. A devoted community gardener, Ross is a founding board member of the Bloomington Community Orchard. So cool. A non-profit free food for all food justice and joy project. A college football player. He is a founding editor of the online sports magazine. Some call it ballin. It's literally like my world's colliding. Football and joy.

I know. And I want to learn how to garden. So welcome, Russ. So sweet. Thank you for being here. Glad to be here. Thank you for having me. So your work is about so many things, joy, beauty, laughter, crying, dancing, gardening, healing, skateboarding, love. So there is sometimes a reaction, which is fascinating, of how can you possibly focus on these things during such serious,

hard times? So what do you say to that, Russ? I mean, you know, more and more I'm like, what aren't serious hard times? That's one thing that I say. But the other thing, you know, because part of that question, which is a little bit of a, sometimes it's a question, it's just like a sort of a generous, how do you do that? But sometimes it's also a little bit of a rebuke,

you know, like you're not being serious. And to me, because joy is fundamentally a kind of practice of connection. I wrote the book, it came out like six months ago now, and now that I've written it, I feel like I have a pretty good definition of the word joy. I offer one in the book, it I feel like I have a pretty good definition of the word joy. I offer one in the book but I feel like it's getting better and I think that definition might be something like the ways that we practice entanglement, the feeling that we have

when we actively practice being entangled with one another. That word entanglement, I think I kind of come to that through this, a beautiful book by a writer named Anna Singh, T-S-I-N-G, called Mushroom at the End of the World. But, you know, that we are connected fundamentally. And if joy is actually the evidence of connection, and it's the evidence of participating in connection, to suggest that it's not serious is just wrong. You know, I usually I have stronger words than wrong, but you know, like fucking stupid. But I think you nailed it.

That'll do. But it's wrong. It's as serious as can be. Because what you're suggesting is that the experience of joy makes us feel connected to each other and the world. Makes us aware. Makes us aware. Yes, aware of the connection.

And then that awareness of connection is what makes us want to love and heal and support each other so joy is connected to saving the world. Yeah, and each other. Yeah, absolutely. Absolutely. I think fundamentally that's what it is. The connection is there. To be a creature is to be connected.

To imagine otherwise is in a way to be brutal. I feel like we do a lot of imagining otherwise, all the time. I know my saddest moments of my life are when I'm imagining that I'm unconnected, and I start to do of do all the stuff to maintain that dream. But when I'm feeling the best, and I think the feeling is joy,

is when I'm not only witnessing, I'm not only attuned to the fact of the connection, like that this black walnut tree is in fact, we are connected, like the shade that it's offering, what it's doing with the air, that it's housing all kinds of creatures that I can't even fathom the number of creatures that it's housing. I feel like, ah, now I'm starting to feel something. And then when I try to practice belonging to that connection, you can do it by playing pickup basketball. Maybe that's a site of

it. Gardening is a site of it. Dancing is a site of it, you know, et cetera, et cetera. side of it, dancing's a side of it, you know, et cetera, et cetera. I love that when you're saying that joy is not easy, it has everything to do with the fact that we are all going to die. And it's so counterintuitive because when people think of joy in the very shallow sense that you don't understand it as is this like running away from the fact that we're going to die, but it's you are going headlong through it. And there's a part where you say that going to that place where we all realize we're going to die is reminding us that we don't belong to an institution or to a party, to our state,

but to you say, but to each other, which we must practice and study and sing and dream and celebrate belonging to each other as though our lives depend on it. It's not the escapism, it's the reality. Yeah, yeah, it's not escaping, it's entering. Yeah, it feels like joy is something that, you know, it's sort of available.

The connection, the fundamental connection or the entanglement, it's available. But you're right, you don't escape there. You enter there, you know. I think that that's where maybe I have thought about joy incorrectly. I think that my soul has known that the connection piece was very important. But I always just thought joy was about how it made me feel. Like the joy was mine. I never have considered this idea

that it was actually about the connections with people and things and trees. What you just said was so profound to me. I wanna talk about the Book of Delights because my goodness, your work is just outrageous. Can you tell us how that project came about and why? Yeah. I was having a nice day one day. That must have been lovely.

It's a great way to start a project. I know. I was in the middle of a moment of delight, actually. I was at a writing residency in Italy, and I was walking along really and I was like, the birds are singing and the bees were buzzing along, and there's sunflowers and I was like, man, this is so delightful. I was like, I should write a little essay about it.

Then really it was like a bird flew in my head and was like, do it every day for a year. Write an essay about something that delights you every day for a year. Then that happened to be like two weeks from my birthday. That was probably like early or mid-July that that happened. My birthday is August 1st. I was like, all right, let me start on my birthday. Then let me give myself these rules,

these little constraints that'll make it easy. One of them was like to write them quickly. So I wrote them all in like 30 minutes. And then I did them daily and I wrote them by hand. And that's how it started. That's how I started. I didn't understand. This is my first introduction to you.

Then I read everything that you've. I thought, oh, a book of delights. This will be some light, fun reading. And then I get to day one, Ross, and you say something about, oh, you're getting dressed and you're putting on flowered socks and all of this beautiful clothes. And you say, it's a little bit of healing for my old man,

surely who would warn us against wearing red lest we succumb to some stereotype I barely even know. A delight that we can heal our loved ones, even the dead ones. We are healing backwards, Ross? I think so, because they're in us, aren't they? They're still with us. Yeah.

I think. I think you're right. That when we do things in our lives right now that we were warned against by our parents, we are not only healing future generations, but backwards. Yeah, I often think of that. I was just with my mother this last weekend and I think, you know, when you're around your mother, you're more acquainted with some of this stuff. I was thinking we were talking about my dad and I was just thinking,

in addition to like, I would have loved to, he died when I was like 29. So I was not quite old enough to be grown with him. I have often thought it'd be so nice to be a full-on adult, like an aging person with my dad to have that conversation. But also that so much of his stuff that felt like difficulty between us, the older I get, of course, the more I feel like I understand that difficulty.

But I also feel like in ways there are some of his sort of wounds that I'm able, because I've, you know, because you look at your hands and it's like, here he is, you know, or whoever it is, they're there with us. You're like, okay, well, I'm going to put that thing to the side. We don't have to like carry that wound or that terror or that thing alone. I do feel like that's part of what we get to do. It's such a beautiful act of freedom because I always think of me having to heal my parents or past generations by telling them everything they did wrong and then making them go to therapy and then write and maybe just not maybe just living more freely and then imagining that as this backwards healing is a beautiful thing. Can I ask you about this

insistence upon joy and gratitude? It makes me think a lot about our trans friends right now who it seems like in those groups, trans and queer people, there's just this adamant insistence upon trans joy, queer joy right now that can feel confusing, I think to outside people because wait, everyone's under attack right now. And as you said, have always been under attack, but these are serious times.

And so it feels as if people who are being marginalized or being under attack are constantly having to fight for their lives and they are never getting to experience the things that make life worth living. That's it right there, it seems to me. Yeah. It seems that's it fundamentally. Like the joy is there, it seems to me. Yeah, it seems that's that's it's fundamentally like the joy, the joy is like the reason to be alive. And if you lose track of that, you're

like, you know, you know, fighting is the reason to be alive. That's kind of a meager existence. Yeah. But if connection is the reason to be alive, that makes perfect sense to me. Yeah, it's the boldest. I think that's part of my part of what I'm sort of why, why I'm curious about this, you know, meditate thinking hard about joys because it's, and it's a little bit of this other thing, which is like, sometimes people will ask the question of like joy as resistance. And I want to kind of refuse that. And the reason I want to refuse it is because resistance

implies, I think, that what isn't joy, what is unjoyous or whatever, the incursions to joy are larger than what constitutes joy. What I feel like is that joy is actually the truth. And so it's not resistance. I don't know if joy is actually the truth. And so it's not resistance. I don't know if this is accurate either, but it's like the offenses of joy. Yeah. Yeah. It's bigger.

It's bigger. It's just bigger, you know, which is why it's dangerous. Yes. It reminds me of your loitering where if the whole world is a no loitering sign, and if the system is that must be consuming, must not be loitering, then what is disruptive and appears resistant to that is relaxing, is not being consumptive. It's a kind of a refusal that chooses each other over this thing that we're supposed to be convinced

is the truth. I'm glad you mentioned that essay. Yeah, I think that's one of those essays where it kind of gets to that. It's such a kind of assault to a system to not be chasing after it or something. It's such an assault. to not be chasing after it, you know, or something. It's such an assault.

And that the system only exists because of the assimilation to the system. Yeah, totally, totally. I've been thinking lately about like, my buddy and I were talking, and that there are all of these kinds of modes of authority, and the modes of authority have to make us imagine, you can say the state or something, but you can say other kinds of authority,

have to convince us that they actually are the suppliers of care. And once we fully have assimilated that, we're like, well, we will wait for the system. We will wait for it to distribute the care, because they are the ones who have access to the care. And they do a good job of making that the case that they have access. But it's also not, it's not, it's a thing that we sort of submit to, you know. We submit, we sort of have to, it feels like we have to sort of forget that we are in fact

the providers of each other's care all the time every day. Even if it means like someone walking by and being like, oh yeah, I got some seeds for you. Like we were just walking down the street the other day and we're looking at these trees and dude came outside and we're like, what kind of trees are those? He was just like taking his trash out.

And he's like, oh, you know what? And he looked on his phone and did his little thing on the phone that I guess you can tell what kind of trees they are. And he's like, oh, it's a sweet guy, it was such a little interaction, a little brief, fleeting, caretaking interaction that is the fabric of our lives. And it's the kind of thing that makes

you be walking down the street and you see someone needing help carrying something. And you're like, I got you. I got you. Or doing this and that. But it feels like that kind of fabric of care, we have to be convinced that it's not available or it's not true.

And that the way that the care comes is from the kind of administrators of care. But the evidence to me is that the administrators of care are the withholders of care. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

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an Odyssey podcast in partnership with Open Mind, available now on the free Odyssey app and wherever you get your podcasts. ["Dreams of a Star Struck"] you get your podcast. Ross, we have this friend who was just at our house for a while and she has an interesting take on money, which we talked about forever that night. And she just believes it comes in and out. And so she does not save. Yeah. And it reminds me a lot of your not how your rule about not hoarding the delights, not saving up the delights and having to do them each day. But it's because she believes fully and

thinks belief means you act on it until it's real too, that the community that she's been taking care of with this money that flows in and out will be there when hers is gone. And she just has to live that way to believe that life is as beautiful as she thinks it is. The principle of sharing, that's the other thing. The question of joy is also like, when you're sort of thinking about connection, you're sharing. Sharing.

And like, sharing is also an offense to who needs us to buy things, who needs us to believe that, and you see it, like all these kind of instances of like, of what you might call radical care, but it's just like care, you know, are often made illegal. Yeah. Well, yes, giving people anything in the street is made illegal giving. And we've even institutionalized that. How do we care for each other? Okay.

Support this 501c3. How do we care? We're looking for the institutions to support instead of seeing the direct through lines of connection that you open our eyes to. open our eyes to. I'm deeply interested in your practical discipline of capturing joy. And you talk about this kind of delight muscle that we can hone. And you say that the more you study delights, the more delights there are to study. And it seems to me, myself included, that many of us have that delight muscle very atrophied because we have not exercised it. Where do people begin who believe what you say,

but the muscle is not, it's not working at the moment? I love that question. I've been like touring a lot with this Insight and Joy book. So I've been having a lot of conversations for the first time in a while in person with people who read the delights and a lot of people who read the delights. It's so interesting.

I didn't realize this would happen. But a lot of people are like, oh yeah, I started a little delight practice. I did. And so sweet. Or people will be like, I've done this thing with my friends. Like this one person said, me and my three friends get online every morning for like 20 minutes.

And we go over the lights every day. And her partner was there and was like, yeah, you've missed like four days. And like the last two years, I'm like, are you kidding me? Wow. That's not an answer, but it is like a question. It is something about, there is something deeply communal about this thing.

It's sharing. Yeah, sharing, sharing, totally. It's more about sharing. It's amazing when a hummingbird like lands four feet away from you. It's amazing, but there's a little bit extra amazing when you're next to someone and you're like, yo. Yes. You know, actually the other day I was in the airport and Steph Curry made a stupid, beautiful move. And I found myself looking around to find someone

to be like, yo, yeah, that was impossible. It's the witnessing that you talked about. You witnessing in yourself and then someone witnessing the same thing with you. It's just bearing witness to the reality. You're saying like, we live in a world with Steph fucking Curry. Are you kidding me? Totally. I was walking, I remember so many times. I'm thinking of walking by the cemetery here and there's a beautiful sycamore tree and evidently chimney swifts come into it.

I remember walking by one day and a friend of mine was just sitting there looking up at the swifts and it was not quite desk, I guess when they start to pour out. But I had to go do a thing. What are you doing? She's like, I'm just waiting on the swifts. This is so beautiful to just witness other people witnessing things that delight them, things that they love. That's the other thing that I think.

I think that in addition to that being evidence of, oh, there's a lot of things to love. There's a lot of stuff to love. Also the evidence of we're really inclined to share what we love. That feels to me really important. And so I think that's just like a ground that I would offer to think about, like for people who are like,

oh man, my delight muscles atrophied. There's something about like with other people. Yeah. Ross, my dad and I had not been talking a lot. And after I read the book of delights, I asked my dad if we could just send each other a picture a day of something that delighted us that day. Because it's such a beautiful way to communicate

who you are to each other without all the words and... I don't know. It worked for a while, and then I guess you stopped being delighted. I'm going to start it up again. Well, we've been walking around, and every once in a while, one of us would go, delight. And I do think that there's that moment of not just connection because we agree on it, but sometimes I didn't see it.

And it's like for me to see my wife in delight without even having experienced it. I can feel my, like the dopamine, like get pushed into my brain and I get lit up just by her delight. Yeah, it's cool. Yeah. Yeah, and I think maybe too, like, even if there was a thing that didn't particularly delight you,

but seeing someone else delighted, the same thing, I think, probably. Yeah, because my delight is just maybe it's not on that. It's her delight. I can tell you I would have walked right by that Steph Curry delight, Ross. I hear you. The connection though, it's again, these practices that you have tune us into the reality. You talk about how joy is more likely to be found in these spaces where the divisions

between us get murky. Because our practice in our lives is to think of ourselves under the myth of being so individualized. But in these spaces where it gets a little more murky is the place where we can see the reality of connectedness more fully. So you talk about pickup basketball games and gardening and dancing and organizing as a place. Can you tell us more about the elimination of the divisions and what that does? Yeah, that's a good question. Well, let me just talk about pickup basketball. Yeah, please do.

That's a good question. Well, let me just talk about pickup basketball. Yeah, please do. Because it is complicated. It's such a good thing. We all know that feeling of whatever it is. I think a dance floor is a good example of where something happens and we get together in a certain kind of way. But we went free, I believe. We went free. Yeah, we go free. And we go free because certain kind of way. But like- We went free, I believe. We went free. Yeah, we go free. And we go free because we kind of boom,

we become each other. We become a murmuration or something. But the, and pickup basketball is so interesting. You know, there's all these kinds of rules and the rules are not fixed necessarily. There are all of these, basically the way that it works is there's 10 people say on a regular court and the winner, the person who scores most points will stay on the court and

then the next team will get on. And every single time there's a new person introduced into the system, the organisms, there's going to be a new understanding of the rules. So because there aren't referees and there aren't coaches. So it's the people who are playing the game who are going to decide how we're going to play the game every single time. And that means some people never call fouls. Some people all the time call fouls. Some people, when someone calls a bad foul, they'll yell.

Sometimes they'll take the ball and go to the other end of the court. There are all of these modes of sort of protests and modes of like, trying to not fuck up the game basically. Additionally, in pickup basketball, you can be playing against someone else one game and they can really be, you know, kicking your ass. And then in just the nature of the game is that two games later, you're you might be on the same team. So so it doesn't abide like the kind of animosities, you know, though it's deeply competitive.

It also doesn't abide like a sort of permanent rival. Doesn't doesn't work that way. Also, everyone in pickup basketball, the nature of the game is that at some point you're going to be on the court trying to find people to get on your team to play next. So you're going to be a host and you're always going to also be a guest because you're going to be someone who says, oh, can I play? So all of these things. Additionally, you can call next game, I'm going to play next, I got next game, but you can't call I have the next 10 games. Which also is like,

it's a way that the game itself manages figuring out how to keep everyone in the game. Oh, God, that's so stressful. It's like a moving constant trust in the energy of everyone. And spontaneity. It's as if the universe is fluid. Oh, we have to just go into the flow of it. Yeah, yeah, totally.

And there was this other thing recently I was talking to a friend. Um, Abby, this might sound ridiculous to you, but, um, playing basketball with a friend and I was like, oh, and he's better than me. And I was like, well, what if we just don't keep score? God, now you're talking, delight. And the idea in my head was like, Harley, it was actually,

it wasn't just that he was kind of kicking my ass. It was a little bit that I was trying to like think about this feeling that I had before we would play, which would be a kind of nervousness. And because I really wanted to win, I'm competitive. But it was also thinking about this other thing, which is like, well, what if the predominant objective of the game is to make beautiful shit as opposed to like beat each other? But then I was talking to another friend who was like, but in pickup basketball, you need a way to keep,

get the next people onto the court. And there's something, you know, you could say, we'll do it with a clock. But there's something very nice about that clocks don't fit in that. It's off the clock. You know, there's some other kind of metric that's going to get everyone on the court. Is it because all those things are outer controls?

Like rules, clocks, that's like institutional outer control and you are dependent upon interdependence on the court. Yeah, totally. Yeah, like we have to negotiate how, and it's interesting too that a court is called a court. Yeah. That we have to, without judges, we are going to be the ones who determine

how to make the game go, how to keep the game going. Which to me, I think of as like a kind of laboratory of care. Yeah. It's interesting trying to like create a no win, no lose situation in the thing that we call a game, which is like the whole point. Right. How did that work out? Did not try and wait me and my buddy. We would do it on the clock. Yeah.

And it could be OK. And we kind of itch back towards, well, let's just play this one up to five. You know, got it. Got it. Got it. We got to get a little competitive. We got to like, no... I'd be scared. I'd be scared. I know. This is going against everything I have known to be true.

Speaking of sports, I need to talk about crying. I need to talk about crying and laughing. So you talk about your time on the football team in high school and I think college. College. College. Okay. And the kind of specific brand of kind of masculinity shaming that occurred specifically by this one coach. And when you recounted one of these horrible stories to Stephanie, you explained to her that you couldn't really share what had happened with anyone back then because if you would have, you would have started crying. And Stephanie said, and what would have happened if you started crying? And you said, I would have had to kill everyone and everything around me.

And she said, why? That's a pretty good question. Why? Hmm. And she said, why? That's a pretty good question. Why? It's so right though. It's so deeply, I understand. Can you tell us why? Why? Yeah. And two, I want to say that the thing that's even like just as interesting to me is that it had never even occurred to me that, oh, that feeling I had was I was about to cry. Like it took me 25 years until I was playing ball with this kid who every once in a while we wouldn't keep score. And

I was talking to him because he's sort of easy with tears. It's not a big deal with him. And I was explaining to him, I was like, oh, damn, I realized I spent like the last 25 years. Every time I tell this story, even to myself, I never acknowledged that, oh, the thing that was about to happen is that you were about to start crying. And then yes, like, and then when it's such a good conversation, because you can imagine it's just a person who's like not hung up in that way. And he's like, Oh, well, why would you kill everyone? Naturally. Naturally. Sounds like a disproportionate response to the situation, but it's not.

Yeah, I feel like you could go in a corner and cry. And it takes me like, whatever, 60 pages in that essay to kind of try to figure out what that's about. But I do feel like part of it in this long way is that, you know, so much of the training, that certain kind of training of being a so-called man or whatever is like to be, and not only though, not only, you know, is to be not falling apart. You know, like holding it together is one way of sort of saying it. But it's like not falling apart. And so much of the training, it seems to me, is like that any evidence of, when I say falling apart,

what I kind of think I really mean is of being a creature. And of being a creature, what I mean is of having need, which all of us are mostly need, shameful as it is. You know, I think it's that I think it's sort of like that kind of intense. And I feel like that instance is a really interesting glimmer of it. But that was going to, that was like evidence of like, oh, my need was about to be exposed. And my need, just something like, you know, my need to be like cared for or not abused, you know, in the way that you

know, coaches get stupid sometimes and make mistakes. And I also want to say that I've been a coach and have said things I wish I would not have said, you know, that was my need talking and to have my needs shown to me at that time in my life, and to not be able to register that as need for years, I think also speaks to the depth of the aversion, again, to being a creature. What a sorrow it is. And just like so many of the mythologies of growing up,

or being successful, or blah, blah, blah, is eliminating your need. It's going beyond your need. It's like going beyond your need. It's like being able to manage your need, or like have no needs. But to be without need means you're not alive. Is the need to kill everyone the only need? Bring it back, bring it back.

Because- I know we're gonna go past that. No, I'm not, You dropped it, okay? You dropped it to Stephanie, then you dropped it on me, and we're gonna work it out, okay? But is it the need not only to eliminate having needs, but to eliminate anyone who may have witnessed you having the need, right?

Exactly, exactly, exactly. Totally. And it was just so great why why is my partner being like, huh, well, what was that? Because obviously when you're in a relationship, your needs are always being shown to you. And sometimes they aren't nice to look at. That's right. The falling apart is fascinating because you can fall apart when you're crying. You can, people say, oh, she fell out laughing. She fell, it's like when we're all together, when we're keeping ourselves together,

we're the opposite of falling apart, but you need to fall apart to connect with other people. That's it. That's it. And I'm glad you mentioned laughter too, because it is like, laughter is policed too. Yes. Can I read your part about that? Yeah.

Mmm. Because they know laughter is a contagion, those who laugh are its vectors. And one of laughter's qualities is that it can draw us together by reminding us of the breath that we share, which also reminds us or can, especially when we fall off our chairs, when we gasp for air, how we sometimes do of the dying we share, which is a pretty big thing to share when you think about it, maybe one of the biggest.

And if we share that, why not share everything else? It could be epidemic, the sharing, which is why they try to nip it in the bud. Oh, Mike, we talked to Gloria Steinem about this laughter thing, and it's like, you know, I think it was Margaret Atwood who said that men are afraid that women will laugh at them, and women are afraid that men will kill them. Which is so tied to what you just said. Like when women see men's vulnerability, it's like dangerous.

And when women show their actual power by laughing, because the only thing that can't be forced that that is proof of freedom. Yeah. Yep. Yeah. What do you mean by laughter draws us together by reminding us of the dying we share?

Laughter is the expelling often of breath. We breathe because we die. Or breathing is evidence of our dying. It's hard to forget it then. You have to do a lot of that. Can you talk to us about when your neighbors came together to plant a community garden and how you eventually, I mean the garden stuff, just talk to us about gardening and I want you to get to the point where you have to decide whether to put a fence around the

garden. Oh yeah. I love it. And it's so sweet. You say neighbors because my neighbor, any countryman is like the mother of that community orchard. I could throw a baseball into their yard. And she had this idea, and she was a slightly older undergraduate student at Indiana University. And I was here at the farmer's market,

she was a farmer and growing stuff. But she was also finishing up her degree. And she did a project on food security and food sovereignty and stuff. And she did a project on food security and food sovereignty and stuff. And she had realized how few of the trees in the urban canopy, and that means the trees that the city manages, produce food.

And she was just thinking, well, maybe a neat alternative, a way to do something, provide a little bit of fruit, would be to have a community orchard. So she wrote her thesis and then her thesis director introduced her to the urban forester. The urban forester said, well, if you have a call out meeting and a lot of people are interested,

we'll let you use this acre and we'll give you a little bit of seed money. Seed money. I know, I know, I know. Yeah, I just thought about it. I was like, seed money. I know. Delay.

Amy had this call out meeting and a hundred plus people came. Shortly after, we were broken into teams. It was just like the most lovely experience. In the process of doing it and doing hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of labor, among which labor was like all of these awesome potlucks. The most inefficient meetings you've ever been to in your life. And it was due to the inefficiency. And I say this too, like a lot of people had like little kids and stuff. It was hard. It was hard.

You know, we were like figuring it out. People were having to figure stuff out. A lot of people were having to support all of this going on. And that inefficiency, I just want to say this, it just feels so important, that that inefficiency was so important and so part of the love that I feel for those people, that we were wandering, that we were bumbling,

that we were not sure and that what we were trying and that we were sharing sure and that what we were trying and that we were sharing recipes and stuff. But in those meetings, those long-ass meetings, so long, it was so great. None of us knew what it meant to be on a board. We just thought, oh yeah, okay, I guess you're supposed to make a board now. Then we became the board.

Then we were doing these meetings and they were three-hour meetings. Oh gosh. People who are on boards, who had different kinds of and they were like three hour meetings. Oh gosh. People who are like on boards, like who like had different kinds of jobs would be like, oh no. Uh oh. Uh oh.

Uh oh. Uh oh. Uh oh. Can't approve the minutes. No approval of the minutes here. I know, I know. At one point there's this funny story in there. Like at one point, my friend Stacey, who's a farmer,

and we were supposed to write the contract about, you know, these. I think when you do these little contracts with cities, they have a termination clause. If the orchard gets out of hand or no one's managing it, we're going to take the land back. We spent hours trying to figure out what do you do? I suppose we were looking at. We were so bumbling, and it so bumbling and it was so fun. It was so meaningful. The only termination clause that was written in poetry. Exactly. But at some point, because we had like all the trees or we were about to have all the trees and we had to sort of, we were going to have a fence for a deer

fence. But there was like the conversation, the very reasonable, predictable conversation about, well, so the gate, like, is it going to be always open? Can you always get in? And you can imagine that some of us were nervous that if you could get in, shit would get broken, basically. And there were enough people, enough of us, who were like, well, the openness of the gate is more important, actually,

than this other thing. It was a tussle. It was like this really beautiful tussle. And of course, the orchard's been open. The gate's, you can just go walk in there whenever you want. And and you can also just go and harvest what you need. And it just works out. It just works out like that.

It works out. Yeah. Yeah. You said we decided that somebody stealing a few trees wouldn't be the worst thing. The worst thing would be putting a lock on the dream of free fruit for all. Yeah. That's really cool. Yeah, that's right. That's really cool. I love the openness of the gate is worth more than the brokenness inside. I feel like that's

the story of every human. We can keep the gate closed and keep it like perfectly unbroken, or we can open it and be like, mm, it's worth the cost. It's worth it. Have a little busted upness in there. Yeah, it's worth it. I feel like that's why I've struggled to stay at churches. When I was reading to you about your orchard,

I kept understanding the problem from my perspective of, it's like there's always a moment where the church decides that it has to protect itself instead of giving itself because of the institution of it. So it was like actually if the only church that would ever work is one that was constantly dying and having to rebuild, constantly dying and having to rebuild, constantly dying and having to rebuild. But the protection of it is what keeps it from what it purports to be. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Say it again, say it again.

It's like, okay, so there's always a moment in a church that I've experienced where you're sitting down and everyone's like well-meaning and doing the thing and go Jesus and all the things. And then it's like, but we have to like repave the pavement and like pay for that or the new whatever when we know there's people that are hungry the next town over.

So the actual answer would be, we just give the freaking money and we let the thing fall apart. Every time that's the answer. But that's not the answer. That becomes not the answer over and over again. So it's like the equivalent of just putting up the fence to me, which is like the only church that would be really truly legit is one that would constantly out of money.

So it wouldn't exist. Yeah, yeah. The giving away is what builds the church or something. The giving away is what builds the thing. Yeah, or there being openness to dying. Yeah. And then resurrecting in a different way, which is very tied to gardening and Jesus and such. Okay.

Also, hold on just a second. I just have to say, delight. Are you hearing the birds? Yeah, there's a bird chirping. Yeah. It's so- It's at Ross's house for sure. It's Ross's house for sure.

And I just, I love that so much. And like, for sure, we're keeping the birds. Of course. Delight. Can you imagine if we cut the birds. Of course. Delight! Can you imagine if we cut the birds chirping out of Ross Gay's episode? I think it's just coming from Ross's heart actually. Honestly, like when I look at you and your beautiful gorgeous smile and I don't know how you're doing this, but you smile while you speak.

Yeah, the crowd squad can see it. It's just like amazing. I don't know if this is post book of delights and inciting joy or you've always been this delightful to look at. Well, my mom would say so. Yeah. No, my mom really wouldn't say so.

I read those parts too. In her teenage years, yeah. Could you tell us the story of when you told your dear friend Jay that you were going to stop doing Brazilian jiu-jitsu? Jiu-jitsu. Jiu-jitsu. Yeah.

That was big for me to read and understand. Why did you decide to stop? Well, and this is good because I sort of wanted to come back a little bit, circle back in some way to that Atwood observation. And that was part of what that fear of crying was. That's sort of the witness of my need. But also in that, the way that she put it

and the way that you said it is the witness of my frailty. And when your whole life is built around obscuring the fact or like tending to this fantasy of not being frail, that is such an assault when someone witnesses the fact that no, no, you're actually frail. You're actually frail. But partly this, to see if I can bring this over to me and Jay, I remember, yeah, I was on the phone and I was just doing, you know, like little, I don't know, I was just taking this Jiu-Jitsu, not a class, whatever you call it.

And I was so, I was learning things, you know, and it's also good to say that kind of in the beginning of this, sometimes people ask, well, where do you feel like you started to learn some of this? Some of this stuff I started to learn when I was reading Pema Chidron, who has a book called Things Fall Apart,

which I completely forgot until after I wrote this book and this essay, and who feels like a real teacher to me? When I was completely losing it in my 20s, my friend Nora gave me a copy of the book, The Wisdom of No Escape. It does feel like a book that kept me around a little bit. But when I was talking to Jay, I had been enough,

I was starting to learn things about observing myself, which had not been a thing that I had necessarily, I was learning how to do that. I kind of talk about it in the book, I make fun of myself a little bit because the language that we now be like, could you feel into that? Yeah. Yeah.

I had no idea what the hell that meant. But at that point I started to sort of learn like, oh yeah, if I felt into it, I'd be like, I'm defensive all the time. I'm ready to be at war all the time. And the manifestation of that being all kinds of things, like not feeling good, feeling on edge, feeling paranoid, feeling et cetera, et cetera. And just having this sort of insight at some point, I had to say, I don't know if it hurt that I had got this little weird injury where,

I don't know, my rib didn't break, but something happened. But it coincided. It wasn't like this sort of like, it wasn't just a moment of insight. It was like, oh yeah. Okay, it was also a rib. I think it might also have got a little bit of rib. That's beautiful too, end both.

That's good too. Sometimes it takes a broken rib and really feeling into it. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, I was feeling into my broken rib, which was hiding my soul. Exactly. Protecting your heart. Protecting my heart. And I was like, yeah, I want to figure out how not to do things that cultivate this sense of defensiveness. And I told him over the phone, me and Jay are like, you know, been besties for a long time. And he probably knows me as well as most anyone from a long time.

He's seen my changes and everything too. And I remember hearing over the phone. I imagined hearing over the phone. Him making a face that was like a face of like, huh, that's different. Or a face of this recognition. I couldn't see him. There was not yet a thing called zoom. And I also was like, I just sort of made it up. I think I there was a quiet and I imagined that he was not recognizing me and the feeling I had was of my body actually sort

of dissipating. Like my body sort of breaking into particles and floating around the room. It was a strange and really moving feeling. Because again, talking about witness, it sort of made me feel like, oh, right, what does it mean to sort of encounter, at least even if only in your mind,

what it means for someone who you love and by whom or through whom you've sort of understood yourself, who might not quite recognize you. The idea of that, just the idea of it, because like I said, I think Jay was probably like, oh cool, but the feeling was like, oh man, what if this dude doesn't recognize me? And is it also the fear of the,

because who knows what Jay was thinking, but re-imagining yourself in that situation, the fear we have when someone that we know ourselves through starts to change something about themselves, then we feel like we're disintegrating. Because then it reminds me of like when somebody gets sober in a relationship or somebody, and then the other person's like,

but that's now what we do. Yeah. And does you looking in a mirror gonna mean that I need to look at myself? Yeah. It's a disintegrating moment for everybody. Totally, totally. I think of that as like the many good lessons

of like being in couples therapy is to be like practicing, witnessing each other change. Yeah. Witnessing with love each other change, which obviously can require some grieving, I guess. That's not, partly it's like what a relief to be in my experience You're like, oh, that's not. Partly it's like, what a relief to be in my experience to be like, oh, this pattern I have of just knowing everything about you without asking you. Which is like the pattern of knowing everything

about everything without actually checking in. Well, what do you love? What are your values? What are your, what are we doing? That to have to learn that, oh, that's a thing that I do. And then then I do with my partner and I do with my closest people. And to learn that, oh, actually part of being close is to be like, I will always be learning you a new something like that.

You know, always unknowing you. It's always unknowing you. People should put that in their vows. Instead of knowing you, I will always unknow you because it's like when you look at something, the closer you... you just don't see it. Yeah. So Ross, I mean, everyone on the Pod Squad has to hear this every episode.

So sorry, but this is my quick reference to recovery. I'm in recovery for eating disorder right now, so I've gained weight, which is good, yay. But my wedding ring is too small now. And I was so upset one day, because it's like so tight and it almost broke. And then I was thinking, no, no, no, this is what Ras Gay will understand this as a poet.

Like, this is my new metaphor. Like, may my wedding rings just keep getting so small that I just like bust them over and over again. Let's just keep growing, as opposed to having something that keeps us one size. Yeah, beautiful. Thanks Ross, I just thought you might appreciate that one.

I didn't tell it to anyone else but you. Yeah, beautiful. What you were just talking about Ross, when you were talking to Jay and feeling like you're just disintegrating. I'm just imagining we feel like someone else's that we love is changing before us. Is it like the initial alienation from that where we feel disconnected?

Abandoned? And then is it the, when you say like, breath is both proof that we are living and proof that we are dying. Is it like we are active and changing? And so we have to go through that and find a new connection point to witness the evolution. I'm imagining all these little particles and then imagining the other person and like, what is happening in that ecosystem when there is change. Yeah, I think of it like, you know, again, being around my mother, I feel like, oh man,

what an interesting project to have a kid and be like part of being a parent is to like really know your kid and to also be around this person who is always changing. Oh my gosh. And part of the negotiation of that relationship is to be like, yeah, I don't know you. And I don't want to like lock you into this thing

that I think you were or you should be, but like, let me just know you as you continue to change. I feel like the way you put it sounds, I mean, that's interesting to me. That sounds interesting to me. It also comes back a little bit to connection, which I think is also really moving and beautiful and complicated, which is that we do recognize ourselves through who loves us.

We also recognize ourselves through people who don't love us. Yes, just as much. I think that's also important to note. But if we're talking about who loves us and who we deeply trust, that feels like a kind of, it isn't kind of disintegrating. It's a kind of unmaking of oneself and reconstituting of oneself. And an unmaking of a relationship and a reconstituting of a relationship again and again and again and again and again.

Yes. And when you say joy emerges from this reality of shared sorrow, there is joy emerging from this shared sorrow that we will never truly know anyone and including ourselves someone else will never truly know us. And so we're like, all just buzzing around each other trying and trying and loving and loving. And yet we know that we're always just gonna miss each other and those rare moments you connect, there was so much joy because of that. Yeah, the way you say it too, it makes me think that like a deep commonness is the unknowing. And if the unknowing is kind of a ground,

that's like, well, we really have, we have a handful of things, and one of them is like this kind of abiding unknowing. I feel like if we practice, that can make us tender. You know, I think. Roske. What a freaking delight you are. By the way, once I started reading all of your books, I texted Liz Gilbert, one of

my best friends, and I texted her and said, have you heard of Rascay? And she said, have I heard of Rascay? He's my neighbor. I said, is he is great? Tell me the truth. Is he is great as his books make him seem like he is? And she said, he's better. He's even better in real life.

Pod Squad, go get Insighting Joy. Go get the Book of Delights. Go get all of Roske's work. You know how we're talking on the pod lately about how we need to keep leaning into anything that capitalism tells us is worthless? Roske's the guide through that, okay? So go pick up his work.

You will not regret it and just go forth this week and unknown everyone around you. We love you Pod Squad. We'll see you next time. Bye. Geez. Yay! That was great. Thank you for that.

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