David Whyte, Poet — The Conversational Nature of Reality

Start. (0s)

• A walk sparked thoughts about the parameters placed upon oneself to write, such as needing to be in a study. (0s)
• The parameters included needing two weeks in the study to write, with an additional two weeks at each end to decompress from traveling and speaking, and recompress before going out again. (10s)
• The realization came that many strictures are put around what is needed to write, including the need for silence and quiet. (24s)
• A question was posed: what if it were possible to write everywhere, anywhere. (32s)

Connecting with Henry Shukman. (51s)

• Henry Shukman, a fully-fledged Zen master in the Kawon Yamada Roshi tradition, was first met at the William Wordsworth Foundation in the English Lake District, where he was poet-in-residence and the speaker came to give a reading, forming a strong connection as two young poetic minds (1m11s).
• The speaker and Henry Shukman would meet every Thursday night at the Bookbinders Arms Pub in Oxford, discussing literature and Zen, with the speaker sharing his experience in Zen and Henry being new to the practice at the time (2m8s).
• Henry Shukman was a rising star in the literary world in London, being published in the Times Literary Supplement and in demand as a poet, and also had a pipeline of novels, but seemed to disappear from the public eye when the speaker moved back to the states (2m52s).
• The speaker lost touch with Henry Shukman and, unable to find any information about him online, assumed he might have passed away, but it turned out that Henry had dedicated himself fully to Zen and emerged 20 years later as a fully pledged Zen master (3m27s).
• The speaker and Henry Shukman reconnected through the Sam Harris app, where they both appeared as guests, and were happy to find each other again after a long time apart (4m8s).
• Henry Shukman is now returning to poetry, and the speaker is recommitting to his Zen practice, allowing them to reconnect as "Zen and poetic bros" with a shared sense of humor (4m34s).
• The speaker and Henry Shukman recently collaborated on a project in Santa Fe, exploring the theme of the "unordinary" and the idea that ordinary mind is actually extraordinary mind (4m45s).
• The speaker values his renewed friendship with Henry Shukman, appreciating the opportunity to work together and have his support in life (5m1s).

Low times in the High Himalayas and a yak manger awakening. (5m5s)

• A transformative experience occurred in the High Himalayas, where a yak manger served as a place of refuge due to the only available space in a one-room hut belonging to a Tibetan family with five children (5m47s).
• The individual, in their mid-to-late 20s at the time, had been trekking on the Annapurna trail when it first opened in the mid-1970s, resulting in a unique experience similar to what Marco Polo would have encountered (6m34s).
• The trekker collapsed a mile before reaching the village and crawled into the hamlet on hands and knees, where the family took them in and provided hospitality, including a rice beer that was the only thing they could consume during their three-day delirium (7m10s).
• The family's rice beer was exceptionally good, comparable to strawberries and cream, and it was the only thing the individual could drink during their illness (8m22s).
• During the three-day delirium in the yak manger, the individual went through various levels of hell, as depicted in Tibetan iconography, and eventually had a powerful experience that culminated in a breakthrough on the third day (8m33s).
• The breakthrough involved realizing the absurdity of the "David Whyte project" and the impermanence of one's identity, understanding that what is real is what is yet to emerge and does not have a name (10m10s).
• This realization is connected to the idea that good poetry comes from the unknown, lying deep within oneself, and is a place of creativity and inspiration (10m47s).

The place from where David writes good poetry. (10m57s)

• The place from which good poetry is written is a physical experience that can be felt, and it is possible to know when one is in that place (10m59s).
• Initially, this place may be vague, but with time, it becomes more defined, and one can pinpoint its location, which is often described as being in the Hara, or the belly, and also in the heart (11m15s).
• This place is willing to engage with the fiercest conversations of existence and is the part of a person that already knows it will have to give everything away (11m46s).
• It is the part of a person that lives at the center of the pattern, and this is what Coleridge and Keats called the primary imagination (12m3s).
• The primary imagination is the central physical tonality from which one can meet the fierce conversations of existence, and it is also referred to as Buddha nature in different experiences (12m17s).
• This place is where one becomes useful to others through articulation, and good poetry, literature, and speech come from below the horizon, where meaning is mediated by language, but takes a linguistic form (12m44s).
• Good poetry is fresh, surprising, loving, and affectionate, and it almost always comes from this place, which is below language but takes a linguistic form (12m59s).

Invitational speech. (13m16s)

• The concept of Invitational speech is based on the conversational nature of reality, where individuals are constantly being invited out of themselves into larger territories of self-understanding and understanding about the world (13m16s).
• This invitation is a mutual one, and it's about being open to larger territories of generosity and the ultimate generosity of giving oneself completely away (13m36s).
• One of the great frontiers of human maturation is realizing that death might not be a tragedy, and that the rest of creation could be relieved to see one go, which can lead to getting out of the way sooner (14m8s).
• Every conversation has an invitation at its foundation, and when the invitation stops, the conversation really stops, even if people are still exchanging words (14m39s).
• Invitation is based on vulnerability, and people only invite others in when they feel they need help or understanding (14m55s).
• The phenomenology of conversation is a spectrum of qualities that include vulnerability, invitation, and the trajectory of qualities that make up conversation itself (15m18s).
• The concept of inner and outer Horizons is important, and outer Horizons can be nourishing, such as looking at a far Horizon, which can make people happier (15m36s).
• Inner Horizons, on the other hand, can be seen as a line of resistance and difficulty, and it's the Horizon between what one knows about themselves and what's just about to emerge from their being (16m53s).
• The invitation to go below the Horizon and explore what's emerging from one's being can be refused, leading people to stay in old ambitions and goals because they don't know who they are without them (17m51s).

Catching up with the curve of one’s transformation. (18m10s)

• Most people are living four or five years behind the curve of their own transformation, which means they are not catching up with the part of themselves that has already matured into the next stage of their existence (18m16s).
• This part of oneself lies below the horizon of one's understanding and doesn't need the same things that one thinks they need at the surface of their life, but it can be scary to drop below that horizon and face the possibility of one's surface life falling apart (18m55s).
• Many people turn away from this edge of maturation because they are afraid of putting their friendships, relationships, and other aspects of their life in jeopardy (19m28s).
• Sometimes, outer circumstances can suddenly pull the rug out from under someone, causing their life to break down and forcing them to hit present reality with velocity, which can be a hard and painful way to transform (20m12s).
• There is another way to transform, which is to stay up with the edge of one's own seasonal maturation by developing attunement and sensitivity to sense what is dwelling fully in the body (20m37s).
• Meditation can be a primary tool for this, as well as other disciplines such as physical dwelling and contemplative traditions that help one stop putting their identity in their thoughts and instead inhabit the mind and thought from a deeper, autonomic body (20m45s).
• This process can also be facilitated by experiences such as illness, which can force one to re-evaluate their life and mature in some way (21m3s).
• The ability to put the inner horizon inside oneself in conversation with the far horizon of one's imagination out in the physical world can create a powerful conversation, but the really fierce conversation is when one puts what's below that horizon, the unknown, in conversation with what lies over the horizon of one's ambitions and desires (22m16s).
• This meeting of two unknowns can be a mystical or enlightening experience, where one's identity is the frontier between them, and it requires accessing the unknown to meet it (23m2s).
• This process is similar to the concept of Dharma combat in Zen, where the Zen master throws out something from the unknown and the student is supposed to access the unknown to meet it (23m17s).
• The conversation with Henry Shuckman on this podcast is also recommended for further exploration of this topic, particularly in relation to semantic awareness and disambiguating it from identification with thoughts (24m1s).

A revolutionary moment reflecting on parameters and regret. (24m39s)

• A personal story is shared about a revolutionary moment in life that led to the writing of the essay "Regret" and the book "The Consolations" while in Paris (25m11s).
• The story begins with a daily routine called the "Sunwood walk," where the individual would start walking in the morning towards the east with the sun and follow it throughout the day, discovering new and fascinating things along the way (25m37s).
• During one of these walks, a phone call was received from The Observer magazine in Britain, requesting a 300-word philosophical column with a single-word title (26m40s).
• Initially, the parameters were met with disgust, but a change in perspective led to the realization that many people have changed others' lives with fewer than 300 words (27m29s).
• This led to a reevaluation of the personal parameters and strictures that were placed on the writing process, such as needing silence, quiet, and a specific environment (27m44s).
• The individual decided to challenge these parameters and write anywhere, leading to a conversation with themselves at a restaurant without a book or any distractions (28m15s).
• A piece of beautiful, watermarked paper with gold leaf was requested from the waiter, and the conversation with oneself began, marking the start of a new writing process (28m33s).
• Regret is a short, evocative, and achingly beautiful word that represents an allergy to lost possibilities, and it is rarely heard except when someone insists they have none, as admitting regret means understanding one's fallibility and the existence of powers beyond one's control (29m23s).
• Admitting sincere and abiding regret is considered one of our greatest but unspoken contemporary sins, possibly due to the emphasis on the youthful perspective, which may not be ready for the rich current of abiding regret that runs through and emboldens a mature human life (30m11s).
• True regret may require a certain level of maturity to experience without being overwhelmed, and it can put one into a more generous relationship with the future (30m27s).
• Sincere regret can be a faculty of paying attention to the future, sensing new tides, and experiencing timelessness, allowing one to appreciate the high stakes in even the average human life (30m59s).
• Fully experienced regret can turn one's eyes attentive and alert to a future possibly lived better than the past (31m19s).
• Naming and acknowledging regret can release one from the parameters that hold them back, allowing for personal growth and change (31m47s).
• The way forward may be through a fully felt sense of remorse, rather than trying to plow on without acknowledging regret (33m33s).
• The concept of regret led to an exploration of other words used in narrow and pejorative ways, such as time, which is often seen as an enemy, but is actually a lifegiving and essential part of life (32m20s).
• This realization sparked an adventure of writing essays with single-word titles on various topics, including vulnerability, honesty, friendship, the body, death, and shame (32m53s).
• Fully experiencing the generosity that could have been displayed but wasn't can precipitate a deeper form of generosity in the future (33m46s)
• This process involves acknowledging and understanding the opportunities for generosity that were missed (33m44s)
• Recognizing the unexpressed generosity can lead to personal growth and a greater capacity for generosity in the future (33m51s)

“Everything Is Waiting for You.” (33m57s)

• The poem "Everything Is Waiting for You" by David Whyte resonated deeply, putting words to a sentiment that was difficult to verbalize, and it was a major reason for having this conversation (34m26s).
• The poem conveys an ancient human sense that things are about to come and find you, and they will find someone deep inside you that you don't fully know yourself (35m41s).
• It also echoes the Zen tradition, emphasizing that everything is waiting for you, and your great mistake is to act as if you were alone, as if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness (36m1s).
• The poem highlights the importance of recognizing the intimacy of your surroundings and not feeling abandoned, as even the smallest objects like a soap dish or a window latch can enable you or grant you courage (36m14s).
• Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity, and the stairs, doors, and even tiny speakers can be your mentors or invitations to new experiences (36m36s).
• The poem encourages putting down the weight of your aloneness and easing into the conversation, as everything in the world is waiting for you (36m55s).
• The line "put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation" particularly resonated, as it relates to the feeling of unnecessary burden that people impose on themselves, including the weight of loneliness (37m30s).
• Recognizing and paying attention to the bodily feel of loneliness, rather than taking it on with inherent heaviness or identification, has been enabling for those who have felt alone or lonely (38m16s).
• The poem has been helpful in finding new perspectives on loneliness and aloneness, and its message is especially relevant in today's world (38m57s).
• Poetry, in general, has the power to convey complex emotions and ideas in a way that resonates deeply with people, and it is an important part of human expression (39m18s).

The secret code to life and the agreed insanity of so-called adults. (39m19s)

• Poetry is often relegated to the realm of optional, frivolous, and decorative, but it holds much more significance and can be seen as a secret code to life (39m20s).
• The writer started writing poetry at the age of seven, influenced by their Irish mother, and saw it as a way to understand the world and the agreed insanity of adult conversation (39m50s).
• The agreed insanity refers to the immaturity and lack of primary radiant experience in the adult world, which can be witnessed in current political discourse (40m21s).
• Children often have a more authentic experience of the world, but this gets covered over as they grow up and adopt the priorities and amnesia of adulthood (40m40s).
• Poetry carries a living element that can help people stay connected to their childhood experience and primary vision (40m57s).
• The writer's mother's stories were never the same, with wonderful extemporaneous changes, reflecting the mutability of storytelling (41m10s).
• The writer's father's Yorkshire storytelling tradition was different from their mother's Irish stories, but both linguistic inheritances came together in a powerful way (41m35s).
• At the age of 13, the writer discovered a collection of poetry by Ted Hughes and Thom Gunn, which showed them that adults could keep the primary vision of childhood alive into maturity (42m26s).
• The writer realized that poetry is a way to stay alive, present, and visionary, and that innocence is not a commodity that is replaced by experience, but rather the ability to be found by the world in ever greater ways (43m21s).
• Being unfettered by a collection of labels and concepts allows for a clearer perception of the world, unobstructed by preconceived notions (43m49s).
• Every stage of life has its own form of innocence, which can be experienced if one is mature enough to approach the world with a fresh perspective (44m11s).
• This innocence is not limited to adolescence, but can be experienced in one's 60s, 70s, 80s, and beyond, allowing for a new appreciation of life (44m31s).
• The ability to pay attention and approach the world as if seeing it for the first time is a key aspect of this innocence, and is a theme explored in the poem "everything is waiting for you" (45m13s).
• The world is constantly speaking to us in its own voice, but we often fail to hear it; by opening up to the unspoken aspects of ourselves and the world, we can experience profound and gratifying experiences (45m23s).
• These experiences can be timeless and powerful, and do not require any external achievement or validation to be appreciated (45m45s).
• By embracing this approach, we can tap into our full potential and grasp new possibilities (45m54s).

Being found by the world in greater and greater ways. (45m59s)

• People seeking new perspectives on the world or themselves can benefit from utilizing questions as a tool for discovery (46m0s).

Asking beautiful questions. (46m16s)

• A list of questions attributed to David Whyte includes inquiries about personal growth, self-awareness, and overcoming fear, such as "What helped you get here that you need to give away?" and "What is the beautiful question you've cradled through years of doubt?" (46m16s)
• These questions can be used for personal reflection and journaling, allowing individuals to explore their thoughts, desires, and intuitions in a deeper way. (47m11s)
• Many of these questions have arisen spontaneously during David Whyte's work with people, either on stage or in small groups, and are often inspired by his memorized poems. (47m40s)
• A "beautiful question" is defined as one that helps shape an individual's life as much by asking it as by having it answered, and is characterized by its ability to evoke deep attention and potentially lead to unexpected insights. (48m11s)
• Asking a beautiful question can be a form of deep attention that can be deepened over time, and may even lead to an immediate reward or a surprising answer years later. (48m27s)
• The process of carrying a question for years can ultimately lead to a deeper understanding and unexpected answers, as illustrated by the question "What is the beautiful question you've cradled through years of doubt?" (48m44s)

“Tan-y-Garth.” (48m56s)

• The poem "Tanagar" by an unnamed poet contains the line "the beautiful question you've cradled through years of doubt," which is a reflection of the poet's experience living on a Welsh farm called Tanagar, where they helped a farming family with their 900 sheep and developed a deep connection with the land and its rhythms (48m56s).
• The poet lived in a caravan on the farm and became friends with a fellow named Michael, who lived in a nearby stone cottage called Tanagar Bach, which translates to "little halfway up the mountain" in Welsh (49m30s).
• Michael was a traveling Shakespeare player who had reached the maturity of his artistic life, and he and the poet would often have deep conversations by the fire in his cottage, discussing topics such as the poetry of William Blake (50m7s).
• Michael was an engraver and a lover of Blake's work, and his prize possession was a thick book of illustrated Blake engravings, which he treasured despite being a poor man (51m36s).
• Michael would often ask the poet if he thought Blake actually talked with angels, or if it was just a metaphor, and he would ask this question with a fierce intensity, seeking a genuine answer (52m9s).
• The poet notes that Michael's way of asking questions was a way of paying attention, and that doubt was a powerful force in his life, driving him to seek deeper understanding and truth (52m56s).
• A person had a friend named Michael who lived in a place called Tanagar in Wales, where every field, stream, and landmark had a name, often with a story or myth behind it, creating a "mythic language" (53m11s).
• The person would often visit Michael and his wife Diane at their farm in Tanagar, where they would spend time together and appreciate the beauty of the surrounding landscape (54m15s).
• Years later, the person returned to Tanagar and visited Diane, who informed them that Michael was in the hospital with leukemia, and the person had to leave before they could see Michael again (54m48s).
• Michael passed away, and Diane wrote a letter to the person describing how, in his final weeks, Michael had experienced a kind of spiritual awakening, conversing with angels and experiencing the world in a way that was reminiscent of the poetry of William Blake (55m28s).
• The person wrote a poem called "Tanagar Elegy" as a memorial to Michael, which explored the beauty of the Welsh landscape and the names and stories that were embedded in it (56m14s).
• The poem is a tribute to Michael's love of Tanagar and the natural world, and it reflects on the way that the landscape can evoke powerful emotions and memories (56m18s).
• The poem describes the landscape of Tanagar in vivid detail, from the "grass-grown hills" to the "weathered slope" and the "green depths" of the valley, and it captures the sense of a place that is deeply rooted in history and culture (56m21s).
• The poem also touches on the theme of memory and how the landscape can evoke powerful memories and emotions, even for those who are far away (57m14s).
• The poem describes a place where sounds belong to a single stream, and the valley of speech is filled by the sky, with a farm passed down through generations, yet never possessed, living from father to son and mother to child. (57m29s)
• The farm feeds the people with sheep, and the sheep with grass and memory, with years lived, and a single glance at a hillside darkened by cloud is enough to sense the world it breathes. (57m45s)
• The world needs all the breath we have, and the poem mentions a man who loved this place so much that he said he'd found his place to die, and after years of walking the High Moines, he finally found his peace. (58m14s)
• The man had a final month of joy in wild creation, which gave him a full sight he had glimpsed in Blake, and he too wrestled with his angel in and out of the hospital. (58m31s)
• After his heart had been at the edge of the nest for so long, it shook its wings and flew into the hills he loved, and he became the hills he loved, walking with an easy grace cradled by the faith he'd nursed for years in doubt. (58m51s)
• The man's ashes are scattered over by Abba, the water continually saying his name, and the poem concludes with the speaker still going home to Tanagar, speaking the names of those they love. (59m13s)
• The poem is appreciated for its substance, particularly the repetition of the phrase "faith nursed in doubt" and the image of the man walking with an easy grace cradled by the faith he'd nursed for years in doubt. (59m31s)

Memorizing poetry. (59m53s)

• Memorizing poetry is a skill that can be developed through practice and a love for the material, rather than being an innate ability, and it involves learning one line at a time and then connecting the lines together (59m53s).
• The process of memorization is aided by a deep connection to the poem's meaning, rhythm, and beauty, allowing the reciter to have a powerful and primary experience of the poet's work (1h0m29s).
• The ability to memorize poetry can improve with age and practice, even for those without a photographic memory, as the brain adapts and becomes more efficient at storing and retrieving information (1h1m1s).
• Helpful components of memorization include a visual element, musical cadence, and a focus on the meaning and constellating qualities of the poem, which come together to create a rich and immersive experience (1h1m52s).
• Learning a poem can start with a single line that resonates with the reciter, and then building on that line to embody the experience and deepen understanding of the poem's meaning (1h2m33s).
• The process of memorization can also be a way of paying attention to the world and exploring one's own doubts, reluctances, and beliefs, allowing for a deeper understanding of oneself and the world (1h2m58s).
• The repertoire of memorized poems can evolve over time, as the reciter writes their own poetry and explores new themes and experiences, but it's also valuable to draw on the work of other poets and traditions (1h3m23s).
• The act of memorization can be a way of carrying the wisdom and insights of other poets with oneself, and drawing on their work to navigate life's challenges and thresholds (1h4m1s).
• The primary imagination is a fundamental generative force that produces language, and it can be accessed through the rhythm of heartfelt questions and speech (1h4m17s).
• When asking heartfelt questions or speaking from a place of vulnerability, the voice naturally falls into iambic pentameter, a poetic rhythm with five beats (1h4m56s).
• Iambic pentameter is a natural way of speaking in English when on the edge of revelation, which is why Shakespeare used it extensively in his works (1h5m7s).
• In times of vulnerability or when communicating something poignant, people tend to fall into a poetic rhythm and repeat themselves three times in different ways (1h5m26s).
• This repetition is necessary because the message may not be fully understood the first time, as seen in the Greek Theater where the chorus would repeat the revelations of the gods (1h6m0s).
• Poetry is not an abstracted art, but rather a natural way of speaking when trying to create language that can be heard and understood without defenses (1h6m20s).
• Effective speech and poetry require an invitational language that conveys the message in the spirit it is intended and is tailored to the specific person or audience (1h6m38s).

“Zen.” (1h6m45s)

• The concept of Zen is described as a deep path of heartbreak, and its allure is attributed to its glamorous and seductive nature, drawing people in with its mystique and then abandoning them to the real work of undoing and heartbreak (1h6m46s).
• The exploration of Zen began with practicing various forms of meditation, inspired by the word's glamour and the idea of a remarkable path to take, with its black robes, bronze bells, and quiet temples (1h8m40s).
• The word "Zen" is considered a big old fraud, remaining hip and cool in every generation, and its glamour is what initially invites people to explore it, but ultimately abandons them to the real work of heartbreak and undoing (1h8m3s).
• The original invitation to explore Zen was likely the glamour of the word itself, with its associations with Yoda-like teachers, reflective wooden floors, and quiet temples (1h8m33s).
• The concept of Zen is described in an essay as a great big magnificent all-embracing seduction of a word, a beguiling and charming fander that lets people fall in love and then runs off, leaving them to fall out of love with the word and in love with reality (1h9m20s).
• Zen is a centuries-old, glamorous, and disguised cover-up that invites people in, subtly and seductively, without them understanding what they have become or how they are being taken in (1h9m53s).
• The journey of Zen practice begins and ends in tears, with the first tears being for the body and restless mind, the next for the heart and emotions, and the last for joy and laughter that keeps a friendship with previous griefs (1h10m45s).
• Ultimately, Zen retires from the field, generously disappearing and letting people alone, refusing to let them use the word so freely again and be fooled by what they originally needed to be enticed (1h11m27s).
• The concept of Zen practice is often romanticized, with people drawn to the word itself and its promise of a sense of spacious ease, freedom from worry, and a deeper form of rested presence (1h11m46s).
• As individuals delve deeper into Zen practice, they find that their sense of self breaks down, first from the inside out and then from the outside in, leading to a greater understanding of themselves and their place in the world (1h12m56s).
• The process of Zen practice is likened to a marriage or intimate relationship, with its own honeymoon phase, followed by a slow breakdown through trials and invitations of intimacy and heartache (1h13m35s).
• Through Zen practice, individuals learn that the line between their own body, another's body, and the body of the world is not always clear-cut, and that what they thought they knew is not equal to what they are discovering (1h13m53s).
• In both Zen practice and intimate relationships, individuals often find that what they think they have to give is not actually what is needed, and that what they thought was love might not have been love at all (1h14m22s).
• The hardest thing to do in Zen practice is finding a way to breathe freely while staying connected to the world or the world of another, and breathing is foundational to both coming to know and letting go of what one thinks they know (1h14m40s).
• Ultimately, Zen practice and intimate relationships both require individuals to give up their preconceptions and expectations, and to surrender to the essence and heartache of the experience (1h15m22s).
• The biggest surprise of Zen practice is that it seems to have more confidence in the incoherent life one brings to it than the one they are trying to replace it with, and that difficulties are not a result of one's essence, but rather a result of what one thought they needed to get through (1h15m34s).
• The attempt to give up one's old life and find clarity through Zen is often met with the realization that one's simple wish to find a way is more miraculous than any abstracted spacious place that can be reached through sitting in silence (1h16m15s).
• Zen can be frustrating as it wants individuals to find their way just by being, and it may seem to be the hand that keeps them at bay, but ultimately, it can be the hand that rests on their shoulder, telling them they might be fine just as they are (1h17m12s).
• When individuals glimpse what they truly are, the need for guidance seems to disappear, and Zen's role is revealed to be more humble and practical than initially thought (1h17m29s).
• Zen is not about choosing between light and dark, restlessness and order, or knowing and not knowing, but rather about waiting for things to make their own choice without interference (1h18m15s).
• Zen has a sense of humor and carries a hidden cargo of amusement at human self-deceptions and false choices, often presenting the proposition that one might not have to believe in their own thoughts (1h18m33s).
• Zen practice moves towards both the light and the dark, leading individuals to understand what they might have hidden and the underlying miracle of light itself (1h19m3s).
• Zen is a guide that disappears in the moment of understanding, leaving individuals with what they have found and what comes to find them (1h19m31s).
• Heartbreak is a thread that Zen asks individuals to follow, and it is the only thread they need to follow, as it leads to difficult doors and ultimately to the mercy of giving up even precious memories of heartbreak (1h19m45s).
• On the other side of heartbreak, there is an experience of Timeless Radiance that cannot be described, and for now, sitting in Zen and carrying silence into one's life is all that is needed to know (1h20m39s).

Courage. (1h20m54s)

• Heartbreak is an inevitable part of life, and trying to find a path where one's heart won't break is futile, as the only way to achieve this is by not caring about things or other people, which leads to a life of loneliness (1h20m54s).
• Instead of trying to avoid heartbreak, it's better to find out what one truly cares about and have their heart broken over something that matters, as this is a more authentic way to live (1h21m45s).
• The word "courage" has its roots in the French word "coeur," meaning "heart," and being courageous means being true to what one's heart feels, which requires an invitation into the physical body and a willingness to be heartfelt (1h22m6s).
• Caring deeply about someone or something can create a barrier due to the fear of potential heartbreak, but the courage to love means feeling this heartfelt love at its depth, even if it means giving something away (1h22m42s).
• The courage to love is also the courage to feel heartbreak, and there is no escape from heartbreak unless one wants to live a muted experience of life (1h23m11s).

How living in a trailer on the side of a Welsh mountain helped David develop as a writer. (1h23m34s)

• A person's curiosity and seeking nature started from a relatively young age, and living in a caravan on the side of a mountain in Wales helped develop them as a young writer (1h23m36s).
• The caravan was actually located on the side of the Carneddau mountains, a range over from Mount Snowden, and the experience of living there was a retreat (1h24m19s).
• The Welsh language has a rich and powerful poetic tradition, and being bathed in the language helped the person learn how to pronounce it and learn a host of words (1h25m51s).
• Although the person never learned how to have conversational Welsh, they have a great store of bad words that were used to scold the dogs or sheep on the farm (1h26m9s).
• The person lived in the caravan for free in exchange for helping the farmer, and it was a time of living on very little (1h27m17s).
• The caravan was a trailer, similar to what would be called an RV in the US, and it was a cute but romanticized place to live (1h27m29s).
• The experience of living in the caravan was a retreat, and it came after the person finished their stint in the Galapagos Islands and traveled through South America (1h26m28s).
• The person had reached an impasse and received an incredible invitation that they couldn't quite discern at the time, leading them to return to North Wales (1h26m38s).
• The person had previously studied Marine Zoology, which took them to the Galapagos Islands, and they had lived in a village below Tanagar Farm in a village called Gerlan (1h26m56s).
• The island where the author lives was once home to many Vietnam veterans who were living in the woods, retreating from PTSD, violence, and a world that didn't understand their experiences (1h27m50s).
• The author was also traumatized, but by the overwhelming natural beauty of the Galapagos Islands, which made them feel like a visitor and made their ambitions and ideas seem insignificant (1h28m9s).
• The experience of being in the Galapagos Islands was like being on the planet before human beings evolved, and it was only later in Zen retreats that the author realized they were recapitulating those experiences (1h29m27s).
• The author went on a retreat in a caravan on the side of the mountains in North Wales, where they had a very internal conversation with a friend named Michael, which was a necessary process of catching up with themselves (1h29m58s).
• The conversation with Michael was about understanding the threshold of maturity and how easily people turn away from it because it's scary to lose previous desires and ways of wanting the world to be (1h30m32s).
• The threshold of maturity involves stepping into the unknown and becoming a new self, which changes the way the world is perceived and joined (1h30m54s).

Irish koans, French doors, and Tibetan bells. (1h31m6s)

• The practice of Zen started in the mid-20s, and there are two main streams of Zen: shikantaza sitting, which involves following one's breath and emptying the mind, and the form that includes emptying the mind while working with a koan, a beautiful question that challenges the mind (1h31m6s).
• Koans are powerful because they productively break the logical or rational mind, providing a tool for escaping the tyranny of epistemological arrogance and the idea that everything can be solved with left-brain analytical thinking (1h32m14s).
• Koans are found in every tradition, not just Zen, and can be provided by intimate others in life, such as children, as well as through nature and personal experiences (1h32m47s).
• The Irish tradition has a story about a monk who hears the bell calling him to prayer and simultaneously hears a blackbird singing, illustrating the idea that one should not choose between depth and the world outside, but rather stretch their identity between both horizons (1h33m12s).
• The concept of revelation can be understood through the natural world, as seen in the Irish Church's respect for nature and the idea that the sun on the leaves moving in the wind can be a form of revelation (1h33m28s).
• The story of the monk and the blackbird is meant to point towards the idea that one should not choose between depth and the world outside, but rather find a balance between the two (1h34m39s).
• The experience of revelation can be a physical and personal experience, as illustrated by the example of the Tibetan bells and the red-winged blackbird, which can help one understand the concept of stretching one's identity between different horizons (1h35m1s).
• The poem "The Bell in the black bed" was written in one go as an expression of the author's emotions, describing the sound of a bell still reverberating or a blackbird calling from a corner of the field, inviting the listener to wake into this life or deeper into the one that waits, which requires courage and self-discovery (1h36m17s).
• The poem suggests that becoming one's true self requires letting go of everything and walking to a place where one already knows, accompanied by the radiance carried within and the friendship of every corner of creation (1h37m0s).
• The poem also touches on the idea of being both alone and completely accompanied, highlighting the paradox of human existence, where one is both isolated and connected to the world (1h37m44s).
• The story of Coen and the Zen story of the monk and the moon in the bucket are referenced, illustrating the idea that enlightenment can be sudden and unexpected, but also that humans do not get to choose their level of aloneness or connection (1h37m54s).
• The human task is described as holding the paradox of aloneness and togetherness together in an invitational, conversational way, acknowledging that if we knew how alone or connected we truly were, we might try to escape or run away (1h38m44s).

Poetry as consolation. (1h38m55s)

• Poetry serves as a consolation, offering comfort by acknowledging the depth of one's experiences and heartbreak, and inviting individuals to find their way and have good company along the journey (1h39m39s).
• The poet initially saw poetry as a brilliant art form, a pleasure to learn, recite, and write, which was explosive, nourishing, and inviting in their life (1h40m30s).
• Poetry played a significant role in helping the poet cope with the loss of their mother, allowing them to process their grief in a powerful and invitational way through writing a collection of poems (1h40m50s).
• The poet's initial goal was to become a famous poet, seeking recognition and publication by mainstream publishers, but their definition of success has shifted to helping others through their poetry (1h41m25s).
• The poet now sees success as their poems speaking to another heart and mind, being carried and shared by others, and providing comfort and solace in times of need (1h41m52s).
• Poetry has the ability to help people articulate their emotions and thoughts, especially during difficult times, such as the loss of a loved one, and the poet sees their job as helping people find the words to express themselves (1h42m30s).

The best place to hold a poem. (1h42m45s)

• The physical copies of a poet's work are preferred over digital copies due to the tactile experience they provide, allowing readers to "paw through and peruse the work" in a fundamentally different way (1h42m58s).
• Digital formats, such as Kindle, can be limiting when it comes to handling poetry, making it difficult to find specific poems (1h43m23s).
• To address this issue, pocket books with semi-waterproof covers have been produced, which are portable and can fit in a jacket pocket (1h43m30s).
• The ideal place to hold a poem is ultimately in one's mind and heart, but initially, it is necessary to start with the physical page (1h43m41s).
• The process of internalizing a poem is likened to a journey, where one must "start with the lifting weights" before achieving mastery, much like an athlete training for the Olympics (1h43m47s).

“Time.” (1h43m50s)

• The writing of "Constellations 2" was an intense experience, written in a kind of delirium between January and July, resulting in 60 essays in 7 months, with 52 of them appearing in the book (1h43m57s).
• The culmination of this experience occurred in May or the end of April, while staying in a castle in the Perugian countryside, where the author booked a room with the goal of writing an essay a day to justify the expense (1h45m8s).
• The castle's stunning and silent environment, combined with the author's determination, led to a magnified experience of timelessness, resulting in three essays in the first three days, and ultimately leading to a decision to extend the stay to seven nights (1h45m45s).
• On the fourth day, the author wrote the essay "Time" in one day, starting in the morning and finishing at 11 o'clock at night, with breaks in between, and experienced a physical sensation of being out of their body, with time looking them in the face (1h46m1s).
• This experience was described as a breakdown, where the author felt a sudden release from holding time hostage, and realized that time is not slipping through our fingers, but rather we are slipping through the fingers of time (1h47m2s).
• The author attributes this experience to a narrow approach to time, where people are barely present to themselves or others, and this realization was a representation of the kind of delirium that drove the writing of the rest of the book (1h47m33s).
• The author is willing to share excerpts from the book, and is not in a rush, enjoying the experience of reading and sharing their work (1h48m8s).
• The concept of time is often viewed as an enemy, but it can be seen as a friend if understood in its intimate unfolding way, rather than through abstract measures (1h49m30s).
• Time can grant a greater sense of freedom to human life if it is not seen as slipping through our fingers, but rather as a constant presence that we are slipping through (1h50m29s).
• Memory and the traces of memory allow us to sense time passing and learn from it, enabling us to put those memories into conversation with the future and shape our identity (1h50m42s).
• Time lies at the center of our identity, but it needs our voluntary participation to deepen our understanding of its multi-faceted nature and mediate its life in our world (1h51m0s).
• Time exists in a field of possibility that we influence and partly determine, and it needs more of our spacious, uninterrupted, and timeless time to live out and understand its depths and horizons (1h51m30s).
• Time teaches us that nothing at the surface is as it seems, but also that all surface appearances depend on the all-embracing presence of time (1h51m56s).
• Time invites us to look below the surface and in all directions, including when it seemingly turns back towards us and looks us in the face (1h52m25s).
• In deeper states of attention, we and time are reciprocal partners, creating a multifaceted conversational reality together through memory and direct experience (1h52m42s).
• Seeing the multitudinous face of time and courageously holding its gaze is one of the great thresholds of religious transformation (1h53m0s).
• When our sense of time breaks out of the linear, so does our sense of self, allowing for a deeper understanding of the world and our place in it (1h53m10s).
• Identity in the deeper, timeless states of love radiates out from one's being, unbinding them from their routine life and making them feel a sense of freedom, as if time is open and unanchored, allowing hours to be rich and spacious with anticipation (1h53m13s).
• Without love, time can feel powerless, and one may hold onto a version of time mediated through control, exhausting their power to live, but living fully and giving freedom to others often means letting go of the way one holds onto time and the people they love (1h54m1s).
• Time always feels like a powerful gravity, drawing one toward a clock, appointment, or a sense that something should be happening now, whether it is actually possible or not, and is intimately connected with gravity, as physicists have discovered (1h54m52s).
• The greater the mass or presence, the greater the slowing down of time, and someone living on a mountaintop ages more quickly than their neighbors down in the valley, illustrating the concept of presence and its invitational nature (1h55m21s).
• Presence slows time down and opens up possibilities of experiencing the timeless and the eternal, and the depth, amplitude, and invitational nature of one's presence can slow time for everyone around them (1h55m47s).
• Timelessness is the foundation of all real charisma, and creating a centered, timeless presence invites others to make the choice to join or be afraid of what might happen in that slow, spacious territory of possibility (1h56m8s).
• The personal surface experience of time is irrevocable, and the glass broken into 100 shards cannot heal itself, but the individual atoms and molecules of one's body experience not time passing but simply a change of state when one dies (1h56m35s).
• The meeting of time and the timeless is the place of one's inevitable disappearance and transformation, and time tells us that we are all compost for many future lives and worlds, and time never comes to an end, even though one's time will come to an end (1h57m25s).
• A proper relationship with the foundational nature of time is one's own everyday doorway into the eternal, and when one stops counting time, they can experience the eternal (1h57m56s).
• The human tendency to control time by naming hours and planning what should occur in those hours can be limiting, and stopping this addiction can allow for a more expansive and exploratory experience of time (1h58m9s).
• When we stop measuring change as if we knew what it meant, our ability to measure time also stops, which is why monasteries and silent retreats often make outer hours repeatable to focus on inner growth (1h58m31s).
• By stopping time on the outside, we can concentrate on the ways things change and grow on the inside, dwelling in a deepening, broadening, and maturing sense of presence (1h58m53s).
• As our war against time quiets, we start to take joy in the increased accuracy of the years and the small pleasures in life, such as the aromas of rain on fresh leaves (1h59m13s).
• In a deeply rested state, our sense of bodily tension falls away, along with the falling away of a falsely measured self, allowing us to experience a joyful radiance that is timeless (1h59m32s).
• This timeless state can be experienced in every season of human life, allowing us to grow and change in a natural and organic way (1h59m29s).
• The experience of timelessness can be accessed anywhere, and it's not necessary to be in a specific location, such as a Perugian castle, to write or be creative (2h1m6s).
• Poetry can be written anywhere, and the act of writing can be a gift, allowing us to tap into the present moment and experience the world in a new way (2h1m15s).

Writing and reading good poetry. (2h1m28s)

• The conversation has been wide-ranging and enjoyable, covering a lot of ground, and there's still more to explore, but for now, it's been a marvelous conversation (2h1m29s).
• Poetry has limitations, but it allows one to speak what they think is impossible to say, and once said, it frees them into a larger territory (2h2m22s).
• However, this new territory can eventually become a prison, but recognizing this can help one learn to escape and be their authentic self (2h2m40s).
• One doesn't have to write poetry to experience this freedom; reading good poetry or speaking one's truth, even hesitantly, to others or oneself can be enough (2h3m1s).
• The invitation is to start speaking what needs to be said, even if it's just in a broken or stuttering way, to loved ones, colleagues, friends, or oneself in the mirror (2h3m10s).
• This process can help one recognize when they're impersonating themselves instead of being their authentic self (2h2m56s).

Parting thoughts. (2h3m29s)

• David Whyte's written works, including his latest book "Constellations 2", are recommended for those interested in exploring the conversational nature of reality (2h3m29s).
• People can find more information about David Whyte at davidwhyte.com (2h3m45s).
• For those who want to start reading poetry, it's recommended to find a voice that speaks to them by exploring different poets and collections until they find one that resonates (2h5m11s).
• Poets like Mary Oliver, Robert Bly's translations of Antonio Machado, and Emily Dickinson are suggested as good starting points due to their clear and inviting voices (2h6m0s).
• It's also important to trust one's intuition when it comes to poetry, and not feel obligated to read something that doesn't resonate, as there is both good and bad impenetrable poetry (2h6m27s).
• The conversation with David Whyte has been a joy and a gift, and has inspired the listener to explore the outer and inner realms (2h6m55s).
• The show notes will include links to everything discussed, and can be found at Tim.blog/podcast by searching for David Whyte (2h7m24s).
• The conversation ends with a message to be kinder than necessary to oneself and others (2h7m34s).