Harbor Pilots are strategically placed rescue boats to help us navigate the ever-changing waters of caregiving.
Casual opening moments where the host greets the audience, jokes about camera issues, and describes being outside in flip flops. This orients viewers to the live setting and mood before the topic begins.
The speaker situates herself in Erie near the harbor, notes signs of spring, and frames the session around 'humble roots' and blooming. She introduces the idea that much of growth happens unseen, which becomes the talk's central metaphor.
Using dandelions, family anecdotes, and a movie scene, the host explores how flowers push up from humble roots and thrive unseen. These stories build the metaphor that caregivers’ and creatives’ unseen efforts eventually produce visible blooms.
The speaker admits recent discouragement but reminds listeners that consistent, small efforts are the wiggly roots of future success. She encourages practical daily habits and persistence even when progress isn't visible.
The host reads an 'Ode to the Dandelion' aloud and highlights lines that celebrate resilience and humble beginnings. She connects the poem back to caregivers' quiet labor and applauds unseen work.
The speaker offers recognition to caregivers as 'forgotten blooms of daring grace,' shares upcoming program notes, and sends viewers into the day with intention. The segment is a warm, affirming close that reiterates the central metaphor.
oh I'm just I'm trying to flip my camera you guys and there's a reason we're live in the quadre hi hey Jen Rally I think you're going to be on later are you I have I have my little roster here no no no no how you guys I don't remember how to flip my camera I so wanted you to see my bare feet and it's not working. Mine. Okay, so that's alright. Hey Jen. Hey everybody, come on in. Send me some hearts. One of these days I'm going to blow you away with my sudden embracing of technology. There are just some rudimentary things I never quite get.
So I'm going to keep it simple, right? What's that? The kiss? K-I-S-S. Keep it simple, stupid. Oh, that's a fun thing to lead with. I'm standing outside my lovely tiny house in my flip flops because y'all, they've been parked at my front door since probably end of March. Because in Erie, typically we get nice days and rainy days and snowy days and sunny days. Just like a lot of the country, except for those wonderful temperate climbs that are southern, little bits of paradise like California. All this to say that I've had hope, so I've parked my flip flops and now I get to wear them because I can step outside and it's great.
Jen, you're reminding us you're on Tuesdays at 4:00 central. Thank you. So good to see you. So good to be here in the Quadrosphere. It's been quite a week. It's been a week of holding space for a dear friend who's grieving her mother. Her mother just passed this morning and they were holding vigil all week. And I had a friend who called an ambulance because of a severe headache and she's awaiting test results. Life is fragile. Life is coming at us sideways sometimes life is beautiful and then it's terrible and then it's beautiful again and then it's amazing and then it's meh life is life and we get to do all of life here on the cadre yes the birds are chirping and the dog is barking we are going today from humble roots to new worlds and I'm gonna invite you to bloom And I don't even know.
I don't even know. But I think most of us, if we have to, can read Bloom backwards. I'm going to lean down just for one millisecond. You can enjoy my porch swing in the background. And here I pop up again. That pillow on my porch swing says home is where you drop anchor. Isn't that perfect for harbor pilots? Did I mention for those that are new that I live in Erie, Pennsylvania, right near the harbor of Lake Erie and awful darn close to the peninsula where I can get my car and drive around, which I did yesterday, to see the birds that are coming in.
I saw some loons. There are pleasure boats out on the water now, another sure sign of spring. And what I'd like to talk today about with you is blooming. Bloom, bloom, bloom, bloom. And I just picked these dandelions in the yard and put them in this cute little pitcher. And you know, being dandelions, they won't last long. They'll start to wilt and wither very quickly. My talk today is from humble roots. We come from humble roots, don't we? And in the springtime, I want to talk here in the Quadrosphere about Caregiver Day, which is every Thursday.
So that's the big frame. And the smaller top point is how blooms do most of their work in the dark. This little guy had to push up through the soil even while the earth was frozen or nearly so. power up and break through but there was a lot of work done here in the roots and it's a humble rooted experience where new worlds will emerge. Dandelions are known for being hardy. They're known to lawn and garden people as being pests and they're embraced by four-year-old granddaughters, mine specifically, as a bouquet, as Here, Oma, look what I picked for you.
Recently, she picked a dandelion, handed it to me and ran off to get more. These hearty yellow first blooms of spring are bouquets to her and they're expressions of love and I accept them and love them. You know, there's a scene in Man on Fire Denzel Washington is one of my all-time favorite actors, so I will watch anything with him in it. And my husband and I watched him back in 2004 in the movie Man on Fire. I'm not a big fan of violence and so spoiler alert, spoiler alert, the second-half of the movie is pretty intense.
First half of the movie is my favorite part where his character bonds with a little girl in Mexico City He is her bodyguard. The girl is played by Dakota Fanning and she plays a nine-year-old girl who worms her way into his heart and truly in that first half of the movie reminds him why it's okay to live. And Creasy is his name. The agent decides. Life is worth living. And this little girl gives him, she picks out of the ground a daffodil and he puts it in his lapel. It's a great scene. I tried to YouTube just that scene.
You know how the isolate scenes from movies, memorable things? That one I couldn't find. I was very specific. Scene in Man on Fire where little girl gives greasy a dandelion. It didn't pop up. Yeah. All this to say that daffodils are wiggling and struggling and pushing up in places where we cannot see in the dark under the soil before they burst forth. And isn't that what we're doing as humans, as caregivers, as friends, as comrades, as people who are experiencing life together? from humble roots, new worlds begin.
The thing about dandelions is they do wilt quickly and they don't last long. And again, gardeners and people who love pristine lawns see them as pests. The other thing that I love though, on the flip side of this, is that They go to seed. They go to seed and they become these little organic fireworks or wheels or I'm trying to find the right word. But I know where I'm going with this. that same granddaughter will come over and pick them come July August September when they've gone to seed and then she'll go because they're magical because they've gone to seed she doesn't know gone to seed she just knows wow how cool is that I did explain to her before that the dandelion looks like this now in spring and it looks like this little white beauty in summer.
She thinks that's really neat. So from humble roots to new worlds beginning. And of course the analogy, you probably know where I'm going with this. As a poet, as a writer, I love to find symbolic things in life. And so today the dandelion has come through for me. as a model of what happens with us. I've been discouraged lately. In fact, this week has been rough on many fronts. As A caregiver, as a friend walking alongside a friend who just lost her mama, as a family member with some struggles we're having and the extended group that we love no matter what.
But I have to remember that a lot of the work we're doing is unseen, just like the humble dandelion. You can't see the wiggly roots underneath. You can't notice until they burst forth. But when you invite consistency into your life, be that getting more water in. moving around more, whatever that might look like to you. If you're working on a project, there's so many creatives in the hydrosphere who are in the midst of something and you haven't seen the fruit yet. Can I just encourage you that your wiggly roots are tenacious?
And if you stay at it, it doesn't matter who sees and who doesn't see. It matters that you know that a new world will burst forth because of the daily grind, because of the daily stick-to-itiveness. That's the message I needed to hear from my heart. I'm working on a project that seems dead in the water. I have to remind myself that just because it hasn't gone to the publishing house, yet doesn't mean I haven't been putting things in my journal or opening my laptop and doing the daily thing. You do know, don't you, that I brought a poem to the cadre today.
Yes, I did. This is Unknown Author. I have a few precious minutes here with you still. I love being out on my patio. I practically live here. It's a whole other living space in good weather. 70 degrees now in Erie, and probably about 10 minutes after this broadcast, we're gonna have rain. So the timing is really good that I can be outdoors. So this is in the public domain. The author is not listed, the author is unknown, and here we go. Ode to the Dandelion. In cracks of stone, where shadows weep, the dandelions rise, their secrets keep.
Golden crowns on emerald spires, they dance in the wind, igniting fires, forgotten blooms of daring grace. In urban realms, they find their space with laughter, bright and bold delight. They whisper tales to the fading light. No gardener's hand, no soft embrace, yet thrive they do in wild places, a testament of hope unbound. In every patch, their dreams are found. So here's to you, fierce sunshine's kin. From humble roots, new worlds begin. With petals soft against the gray, You bring the joy, the vibrant sway.
How about that? Ode to the Dandelion and affirmations and applause for the work we're getting done in the places where it's unseen in the before times where the bursting forth has not yet happened, but the work is still going on. As A caregiver, there's a lot you do that is unseen, unnoticed, not applauded, not that we want applause, but every once in a while a nudge of recognition is nice. I recognize you and I see you. And doing the industry of grace is silent work. It's important work. It's important work.
Coming up, we have Carrie Heimer, The Weight We Carry. That's in about, I don't know, 45 minutes from now. I believe that's right. I'm not going to even mess with time zones. I'm in Eastern Standard right now. The Weight We Carry by Carrie Heimer, and she's talking specifically, I believe, about HR. but we'll see. I'll be tuning in. Later on, we have Comedy in the Chaos with Ms. Shannon Paul. Listen to her. I love her turn of phrase. She comes up with the funniest expressions. She is a caregiver to a beautiful young kiddo who is on the spectrum.
We have this evening Rachel's room with Rachel Habakos, and we have Dr. Cherise also this evening. Going to lift out one line from that ode to the dandelion as we say so long, farewell. Sure. There's so many here. I'm going to lift out this line. Forgotten blooms of daring grace. That's what we are. We may be forgotten, maybe even marginalized, but probably not intentionally. But we are forgotten blooms of daring grace. We can still be daring, courageous, obedient to what our hearts are telling us to do or to not do.
And that does not need recognition. It needs only your assurance that the wiggly roots are going to bring forth blooms, daring blooms. Yeah. in urban realms. Where is it? Forgotten blooms of daring grace. Go out into your day with intention, with expectation for the surprises that await, and I'll see you again next week right here on the Quadrosphere.
