Transcript

I’m Ada Limón and this is The Slowdown.

Right after I graduated college, I worked as a receptionist for the King County Water and Land Resources Division, “How can I help you?” in Washington State. I was a receptionist of over 300 county employees. We handled everything from Stormwater Resources to River and Flood Management. I loved that job. Truly. Sometimes I think it was the only job I was ever really good at. I could answer phones and transfer to someone that could help. I got to talk about when the salmon were spawning and watched as environmental specialists would head out into the field to handle some sort of water crisis.

Before that, I wasn’t really sure what a watershed was to be honest. But that job taught me how everything to do with water is connected. I know at 21, I should have already known this, but up until then I hadn’t realized that everything that goes down into a storm drain makes its way to the ocean. This seemed unfathomable. And terrifying. Terrifying because I saw what went down the storm drains in the center of the city of Seattle where it rains, on average, 149 days of the year.

But it also made me have a different relationship with water. I’m sure no one from that job would remember me now, but they taught me so much when it came to wildlife habitats, the importance of river health, and even drainage ditches. I had always been in love with water and fish, but this job gave me a reason why I should be in love with them.

I remember one day, we all got to volunteer together to help with creek restoration. It was pouring rain and everyone was soaked but it felt so good to be doing something of use, something that would make a difference for the next flood season, for the next salmon season, for the next generation.

Today’s poem talks about that interconnectedness, that idea of what it is that shapes our relationships with each other, with the world.

The Frolicsome Crests and Glistening
by Rena Priest

	  “What is it then between us?” –Walt Whitman

There are 20 million pounds of gold
suspended in normal seawater,
spread out in parts-per-trillion.

Gold is a good conductor 
of electricity, but seeing how it’s sought,
I’ll bet it’s the best conductor of a heart’s deepest want.

I once had a conversation with my daughter
in which she asked,

“Do you believe everything is connected?”
“That depends,” I said.
“On what?” she asked.
“On whether you’re being spiritual or conspiratorial.”
“Spiritual,” she said.
“Then, yes,” I said, “everything is connected.”
“How can everything be connected spiritually,
but not conspiratorially?” she asked.

Considering it, I believe the spirit conspires
against our errant belief that we are separate.

I might be you. You might be me. We might be
the living sea with 20 million pounds of gold
shimmering, suspended between us,

conducting our hearts’ deepest wants across
frolicsome crests and glistening, and what else
could it be, if not a spiritual conspiracy?

"The Frolicsome Crests and Glistening" by Rena Priest. Used by permission of the poet.