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Biscuits & Jam


1 Encore: Jessica B. Harris Believes in a Welcome Table 42:14
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Episode Description: Jessica B. Harris may have been born and raised in New York City, but she has Tennessee roots through her father and has spent much of her life split between homes in the Northeast and the South – specifically New Orleans. For more than fifty years, she has been a college professor, a writer, and a lecturer, and her many books have earned her a reputation as an authority on food of the African Diaspora, as well as a lifetime achievement award from the James Beard Foundation. A few years back, Netflix adapted her book, High on the Hog: A Culinary Journey from Africa to America , into a 4 part docuseries. And I’m very proud to say that she’s a longtime contributor to Southern Living with a regular column called The Welcome Table. This episode was recorded in the Southern Living Birmingham studios, and Sid and Jessica talked about her mother’s signature mac and cheese, the cast-iron skillet she’d be sure to save if ever her house were on fire, and her dear friend, the late New Orleans chef Leah Chase. For more info visit: southernliving.com/biscuitsandjam Biscuits & Jam is produced by : Sid Evans - Editor-in-Chief, Southern Living Krissy Tiglias - GM, Southern Living Lottie Leymarie - Executive Producer Michael Onufrak - Audio Engineer/Producer Jeremiah McVay - Producer Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices…
One Hundred And Seventy Nine
Manage episode 309634049 series 3031519
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now sometimes i feel i am a marvelous child all is possible
…
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180 episodes
Manage episode 309634049 series 3031519
Content provided by The Poetry of Illusion. All podcast content including episodes, graphics, and podcast descriptions are uploaded and provided directly by The Poetry of Illusion or their podcast platform partner. If you believe someone is using your copyrighted work without your permission, you can follow the process outlined here https://player.fm/legal.
now sometimes i feel i am a marvelous child all is possible
…
continue reading
180 episodes
All episodes
×old tree my guru i see i am what you are we are this moment
now sometimes i feel i am a marvelous child all is possible
upon each footfall again heard felt forgotten no further, arrived
the anesthetist speaks each step to be taken surrender to peace
returning to bed i look at thoughts like sounds pass then time falls gently
beautiful people walking smiling energy my restoration
my cat knows me well stares into eyes and hugs arm what comfort for us
just now was thinking that all thought is imagined that one, this one, too
without a care now i forget to remember what has bothered me
an anesthetist administers nothing known now waking again
this close eyed world here all sounds and feeling present summer heat gentle
seeking inner road through winding passage of past discovered nothing
many words cast spells agitate charm the body then gone before seen
body quiet rest mind settles and loses self borders open too
all sound surrounds me spatial decay birth passing all is harmony
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with a silent mind all is unfolding with grace effortless present
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old tree my guru imperturbable presence feelings and whispers
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the calendar turns another other something better unknowing
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now, what to do next perhaps wait and see what comes is it always this?
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inner voice whispers sounds like spoken outer voice which i never hear
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did someone speak now i do not know them one bit yet they speak to me
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imagining past all seems open to render new old memory
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mind in time somewhere here there before to come now body tingles thought
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walking without goal world reveals infinite grace and offers its hand
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silent sun warms me arms and face turned reverie what gentle pleasures
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a known boundary between my words and your words cannot be found here
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on waking from sleep world's barely formed potential now all wakes with me
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old tree my guru winks gentle encouragements ever silent source
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this silent world full sound smell endearing rapture all rising in air
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a thousand worlds rise each briefly held and then lost drifting through days past
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tabula rasa but free from even this thought still heart clear view free
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i ask who am i process form thing or no thing no answer heard here
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the warm wind rushing no centre no boundary passed nothing but this
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old tree my guru you will outlast the long day in this your repose
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a simple plan here is to have no plan at all all unfolds to plan
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tasting symphony resolving an inversion in this sweet moment
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is who hears this sound the same as who thinks these thoughts always here silent
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held softly by light remembering all that passed gratitude fills me
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old tree my guru in this silent communion listen to my heart
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a divine voice sings then rendered in bits and bytes reconstituted
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the divine wind blows the mind and senses gentle peace beyond knowing
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all worldly things here are imaginings in space no form need apply
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take a moment please to pause and listen and breathe all is now well here
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this light is dancing upon brief reflected time gone but never gone
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pointing beyond words are the very words themselves many handsome clothes
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forgot what you said and then forgot what i said laughter forgetting
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cat leaps in cold air what can't be known is for what he will not tell me
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no hidden rooms here nothing ever off limits I thought otherwise
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old tree my guru not known by thought or concept always heard by heart
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listen to silence all is still and rested here reborn unbounded
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a woman throws stick at silent bird in water anger at the world
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some thing is not this this is not the thing itself this is every thing
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what do I say now something I have said before the ritual turns
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meeting an old friend music is made from silence returns there when done
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old tree my guru your teaching is standing still still is all we need
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an imposed order forgotten impulse to act just let it happen
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Each week a new haiku will be offered to presence.
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i bring nothing here i will take nothing from here i need nothing here
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these everyday words do swarm and evaporate water disappears
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what is done here now is now gone when remembered what becomes of it
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music always felt not heard or played by muscle my body tingles
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purposeless man walks I can tell he is thinking what he should do next
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faster to nowhere yet so much agitation to be somewhere now
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Old tree my guru but they said you were too old I still think of you
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To plan gentle day will matter little to me happens anyway
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When playing these notes it seems like saying too much all already done
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Little remembered but thankfully not noticed breath comes easily
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The wild stone fountain water bursts from nowhere known and then returns there
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Park bench midday sun faces i will not recall rush passed to somewhere
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who is listening? the same one that is seeing? that same one is you
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eating when hungry special delight simply known belly filled body
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where is the other? other was me all along there is nothing found
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once another time where fierce potential was played now no remains found
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gentle winter light colours walls softly held here pastel thoughts pass by
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reading yet feeling these are not words but spirits swirling passed waving
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