Never meet your heroes (unless your hero is poet Padraig O'Tuama)

I met the host of the Poetry Unbound podcast. I told him he is the scratcher of my spiritual itch.

The discovery of a most satisfying back scratcher

I left church in 2020. I left rigid spiritual practices sometime thereafter.

But just because I left church and rigid spiritual practices does not mean my itch went away.

This itch I have to go beyond the to-dos and routines of life. The itch to sink into something bigger than myself. The itch to feel awe and wonder. The itch towards deep connection with the earth, with my fellow humans, with myself.

A spiritual itch if you will.

Still there.

But after leaving the church I was faced with a bit of a puzzle- how to scratch the spiritual itch without any of the scratching tools I had always exclusively used?

Scripture, prayer to Heavenly Father, temple, church- those no longer reached my itch (and they made me break out in hives, so).

After a bit of experimenting, I stumbled onto something that scratched my spiritual itch in a most satisfying and consistent way:

The Poetry Unbound podcast by Padraig O’Tuama.

Ugh.

The beautiful prose! That Scottish accent! The vulnerability and talent of the poets! The humble way Padraig shares what each poem means to him! Did I mention the Scottish accent?!

It just hits on all levels. The perfect spiritual back scratcher.

That’s the stuff.

In 2021, about a year after I left church, I created a little ritual for myself and my son H. Every Thursday we would drive to this spot on the Spokane river. It’s about a 20-25 minute drive.

On the drive there and back, I would put a show on for H and I would listen to Poetry Unbound.

The drive through the woods hits the vibe too- right along the river, pine trees- just right.

Every Thursday for at least 40 minutes, I could count on transcendence.

Sometimes I would refer to Thursday as my new Sunday because I felt like Padraig was taking me to church.

………………………….

The back story

Rich and I took a trip to the UK this summer just the two of us.

Well, most of it was the two of us.

Part of it was one of us.

A few weeks before we were to leave for said trip, Rich noticed his passport was expired. And despite his valiant efforts (seriously the valiance of his efforts! you have no idea), on the day of departure the new passport still had not arrived.

So, the first three days in London and Oxford I traveled solo.

I was trying to Eat, Pray, Love it, but I really, really happy when my husband arrived.

Thus begins my tale of meeting my favorite podcast host.

I am an avid and happy follower of Padraig O’Tuama’s substack and a few days before my trip had noticed that he would be speaking in London on July the first while I would be there!

Unfortunately we already had tickets to see The Lion King musical that same night.

But! Fortunately, day of I realized I’m an idiot and accidentally bought tickets for the Lion King for June first instead of July first. So the tickets were no good anyway. Unfortunate for our wallets, fortunate for my sudden availability on July first.

I thought for sure Padraig’s event would be sold out, but no! I snatched up a ticket and took a bus out to St Marks Cathedral in London hardly believing my good luck.

I was so excited!

…………………..

Creating a love mitt

Padraig’s talk was entitled “The You of Poetry. The You of Prayer.”

Normally my sensitive little religious radar would have gone off at the word prayer in the title of a talk and made me uninterested. My lifetime quota for being preached at about the importance of prayer has been met I’m afraid.

But I have full faith in Padraig.

So I find myself July the first removing my shoes in St Mark’s cathedral, which is now The Meditatio Centre (because Mormons aren’t the only ones leaving religion).

I’m immediately stoked because the room is quite small and only contains four rows of chairs. Less than 50 people are in attendance. Lucky me!

I see Padraig sitting on the floor against the far wall typing on his laptop and smile.

He’s not in this picture. He was sitting against the other wall. I didn’t want to photograph him like a creep.

We start off with a 15 minute silent meditation, which feels kinda long and kinda hard because I’m all in a tizzy to hear from my poetry pastor.

Eventually he gets up off the floor in his socks with his laptop and his hour long talk begins.

And ……… it’s just what I was hoping it would be: a satisfying existential scratch without being preached at.

He read us some poems. He talked about the “you” of poems- who are we talking to?

Who knows?

We write some words, bat them out into the ether hoping our words will be caught by some unidentified appreciative catcher’s mitt.

He talked about the “you” of prayer. Who are we talking to?

Who knows?

We say some words, bat them out into the ether, hoping they will be caught by some unidentified appreciative mitt.

(who’s the poet now Padraig?)

He told the story of little Cosette from Les Miserables. How she is an abandoned orphan left with unloving foster parents who turn her into their slave. How in her loneliness she takes a stick, wraps it in a rag, sings to it, gently sways it.

Why?

We don’t know, but perhaps just because…. because it’s nice to have a landing place for our love. A direction. Something to hold it.

Perhaps little Cosette had love inside her but no where to put it, so she made a little place for it in a stick. She batted it out and built herself an appreciative mitt to catch it.

Here’s a poem Padraig wrote about God that he shared with us:

(You have to read it in your head in a Scottish accent. It’s a must.)

Do You Believe in God?

I turn to you,
not because I trust you,
or believe in you,
but because I need a direction for my need. You--
the space between me and death; you--
the hum of the heart of an atom; you--
my favorite emptiness; you--
what I turned away from and now turn towards; you--
my ache made manifest in address; you--
silence; you--
containing all that isn't there; you--
shape of my desire.

“a direction for my need.”

It reminds me of my favorite advice I ever came across about how to choose a partner back when I was a marriage blogger. We can get so stuck in the questions of are they good enough? attractive enough? ambitious enough? clean enough? The advice is to set all those aside for a minute and instead ask yourself:

of all the people in the world, all those potential partners, towards whom do I want to direct my love? I have a lot of love inside, who do I choose as my love’s chief recipient? Who do I most want to be the catcher’s mitt for the love I bat out?

It’s kind of a beautiful thought, no?

I liked the God thought experiment. Like little Cosette, towards whom (or what) do I want to direct my gentle swaying? My tenderness? My needs and wants and love?

……………………..

Batter’s up

After his talk, there was a 30 minute Q and A (I got to ask him how he selects the poems for the podcast). Then there was a 30 minute meet and greet and eat.

And I got to tell him.

I got to tell him how I left and lost church but not my itch and how he became my church on those forest roads.

How he became the best spiritual back scratcher when my back got itchy.

I got to thank him.

I got to bat out my appreciation towards him and watch him catch it.

I’m thankful.

Me and Padraig O’Tuama

Have you ever met a hero of yours? How did it go? Who is worthy of meeting?

Also where are my fellow Poetry Unbound lovers at??