Andrea Gibson on Searing Honesty, Pure Love & Surrender to Awe

Every once in a while, someone enters our lives and changes everything. Andrea Gibson was such a soul – a brilliant poet, spoken word artist, and Colorado’s Poet Laureate who touched countless hearts with their raw vulnerability and fierce compassion.

I recorded a conversation with them in 2020 that opened my mind and heart in ways I never expected. Through seven remarkable books, including You Better Be Lightning, Andrea gave voice to the deepest parts of the human experience.

Their passing on July 14th, 2025, at age 49, leaves us grieving yet grateful. While they’re no longer physically with us, their words and spirit continue to ignite authenticity and wonder in others. In this conversation, you’ll hear Andrea’s wisdom on creativity and identity, plus powerful performances of “Homesick” and “A Year of No Grudges.”

Let’s honor their legacy by living with the same open heart and zest for life that Andrea embodied.

You can find Andrea’s work at: Website | Instagram | Episode Transcript

Andrea Gibson: [00:00:00] To live a good life. Oh. To be connected. Um. To love. To celebrate. To feel deeply and to continuously be. Becoming. To welcome the becoming and the shift that, you know, hopefully. Um, in our last breaths here, we’re. I want to in my last breath think. But there’s more I wanted to become and then hopefully the others, you know, it’s like running death like a stop sign. And you just keep on going and keep, keep becoming.

Jonathan Fields: [00:00:34] So every once in a while, you meet someone in life that just leaves you profoundly changed. And such was the case with poet and spoken word artist Andrea Gibson. I had the opportunity to record a conversation with them back in 2020 that just really cracked my heart and mind open. And as I’ve deepened into their work over the years, I’ve been captivated. I’ve been wowed. I’ve been inspired by the way they lived their life. And I’m using the past tense because as I record this on the morning of July 14th, this transcendent poet, performer, and soul who showed us how to feel deeply and love fiercely died. Andrea was a legendary spoken word artist, poet laureate of Colorado, and the author of seven books, including the acclaimed You Better Be Lightning. With a unique blend of just raw vulnerability and embodied compassion. Andrea shattered rigid boundaries, giving voice to the depth of the human experience. And so many times I’d be reading or listening to their words and and just find myself in tears of joy or sorrow or awakening and recognition. When we learned Avenger’s passing on July 14th at just 49 years old, it felt like the world lost just a blazing comet, radiating light with truth and every revolution.

Jonathan Fields: [00:01:50] And while their physical form may be gone, their spirit and words and performances remain undying sparks, igniting others to just live authentically and appreciate life’s beauty amidst the chaos. And during our chat, you’ll hear Andrea’s piercing insights on creativity, identity, and the courage really required to express one’s whole self. And don’t miss the section of this conversation where they powerfully perform their acclaimed poems, homesick and A Year of No Grudges. The vulnerable lyrical delivery is just sure to leave you deeply moved as it did me. And while Andrea’s departure, it fills us with a deep sorrow. We choose to honor their legacy by living with the same unapologetic zest and deep love they embodied in revisiting this conversation. May we all rededicate ourselves to seeking awe in the ordinary, to cherishing each fleeting moment, and even more so, each fleeting human, and to greeting the world with Andrea’s radically open heart. I’m Jonathan Fields, and this is a tribute to the magnificent life of Andrea Gibson on Good Life Project.. There’s a rumor floating around the internet that, I don’t know, something like 20 years ago or something like that, that you actually took this stage and performed a deeply emotional spoken word piece dressed as a cow.

Andrea Gibson: [00:03:32] Are you serious? Where did you read that? See, this is. This is why I don’t ever look myself up online. That’s true though. It’s true.

Jonathan Fields: [00:03:42] You gotta give me a little context here.

Andrea Gibson: [00:03:44] Yeah, I was doing. I had just gotten into spoken word and also veganism at the same time. And I was part of this performance with a group called Vox Feminista, which was this radical political artistic group of activists. We put on shows and I dressed up as a cow and read. I think it was like a ten minute poem about the plight of cows in the dairy industry. Actually, I remember I was so moved by it at the time. I think it was the only time maybe I ever full out cried in the middle of one of my own poems, and I was dressed as a cow, so it was quite awkward. I can’t believe that’s up on the internet. Good to know.

Jonathan Fields: [00:04:26] Well, you know, our our crack research staff here, we we’ve we find just about everything. Um, I mean, that’s I’m just picturing it now. Um, on stage, performing in a cow outfit, crying in front of people. Um, but that must have also been really early in your career.

Andrea Gibson: [00:04:44] Yeah. I mean, I don’t think it was a career at that point. I had no, no idea that somebody could make a career out of spoken word. For sure. There was, um, you know, I think I knew one person who was doing it at the time. So it was a dream so big, I don’t think I had stepped into daring to dream it yet, but yeah, at the very beginning, I discovered spoken word in 1999, I think, um, and it was still, you know, a lot of people had never heard of it. And, uh, so it was definitely right at the beginning. So I started it off right by, by being a cow. I should I should return back there someday.

Jonathan Fields: [00:05:23] Right. You’re gonna have to do sort of like, a 20th year, um, anniversary.

Andrea Gibson: [00:05:28] Yeah.

Jonathan Fields: [00:05:29] No. So you have, over the last couple of decades, built this amazing presence and body of work, and I want to dive into a whole bunch of that and then invite you to share some of it as well. But taking a step back in time, I mean, you grew up in, from what I know, a pretty tiny town in Maine.

Andrea Gibson: [00:05:45] I grew up in Kallus, Maine, said, uh, spelled like the Calais in France. That said, like the thing on the bottom of your foot and it’s fitting. It was really a really small town in the middle of the woods, right on the Canadian border. So almost as east as you can get in the United States and almost as north. Really conservative little town, which I didn’t even think of it as conservative at the time, because I didn’t know what a world that wasn’t conservative looked like. But it was lovely in many ways, and hard as a queer kid in a lot of ways, you know, a closeted queer kid. But there was a lot beautiful about it. I spent most of my, um, childhood just running through the woods, and, um, it certainly provided a lot of beauty in that way.

Jonathan Fields: [00:06:32] Yeah. Was I mean, it sounds like like you were almost living sort of like this dualist presence, ordinary kid running through the woods, small town, classic Maine upbringing. Um, and as you shared, closeted queer kid. Did you have a sense of that even at the youngest age? Or because I know also part of your upbringing is your your. I guess your folks were Baptist, and then you ended up going to college at Saint Joseph’s, which I think is a Catholic college or a faith based college.

Andrea Gibson: [00:06:59] Yeah, it’s a it’s a Catholic college, which, um, really disappointed my Baptist grandmother at the time, but I, I was a basketball player, and it was one of, you know, the best basketball schools in the state and one I had always hoped to go to when I was younger. And so, um, yeah, I was really excited to go there. So lots of lots of Jesus in my early life.

Jonathan Fields: [00:07:21] Yeah, I mean, it it sounds like also, I mean, if you’re growing up in that tradition and you have a sense of being different from both sexuality and a gender standpoint, that that could be a tough environment.

Andrea Gibson: [00:07:34] Yeah. Well, you know, I think I knew my gender long before I even knew my sexuality. I always look like this as a kid. And I, I always wanted my hair short and wanted to wear boys clothes. And, um, that didn’t even feel very complex for me until I got to, I think later on in middle school and high school when it, uh, you know, I started getting bullied some for it. But yeah, it was, it was, it was a lot of, uh, not really being sure of who I was, but being sure in some ways and, and then having all these dreams that I didn’t know why they were my dreams. Like, I thought, okay, I’m not going to get married, but I’m going to live in a loft in New York City. I always thought, I’m going to live in a loft in New York City, but I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to get married. When I first started saying, I don’t want to get married, I didn’t know it was because I didn’t know it was an option to marry a woman. So, uh, marriage was sort of off the table just because I assumed it would have to be with a man.

Jonathan Fields: [00:08:31] Yeah, I know a lot of the, um. I guess the early writing for you also was really. Well, I don’t want to make an assumption, because I know once you started really focusing on that in college and creative writing and then poetry and then you’re out in the world, it seems like a lot of the focus of that. Writing weaves in these things of exploring identity and gender and sexuality and faith all together, and often the tension that you have among them. But I know you were writing a lot earlier than that in your life. I’m curious whether those different themes were expressing themselves in your writing earlier on, too.

Andrea Gibson: [00:09:08] I remember writing a lot about masks. I even up through college. You know, when I still wasn’t out in my writing in college, but I only for some of those years knew what those masks were representing. I remember being in fifth and sixth grade, writing a lot about hiding and masks, but I still wasn’t certain what I was hiding. My early writing I remember my mother just being devastated by how sad everything was. She just so she wanted me to write something happy so badly. And I also was. I drew and painted a lot through a large part of my life, and, um, she always was trying to steer me away from my brain. She wanted. She wanted me. She thought writing was, you know, sad. She’s like you’re. I remember when I was little, she always call me her deep thinker and wish that I wasn’t her deep thinker because she, I think, was watching that thinking be sort of pained in my body.

Jonathan Fields: [00:10:04] Ah, that’s so interesting. So she saw there was a process going on and you were feeling certain things, but it’s almost like her approach was, well, the problem is less the genesis and more the expression is what’s causing the pain. And maybe if you stopped expressing it, yeah, um, the suffering would stop.

Andrea Gibson: [00:10:23] You know, I don’t even know if it was exactly that. She just also, I was such a, um, I had so many things that I was interested in, and I loved, uh, being in my body. Like, I loved climbing trees and sports of every kind. And. And I think that she saw me happier in those places. And what’s wild now is that I do almost all of my writing are running around, so I hardly ever sit in front of the computer. I’m just pacing, jumping. You know, there’s a bed in this room I’m in right now. Our guest room, where I often write. Jumping on the bed, whispering to the walls like, I don’t know, dancing with the chair. So I sort of, in my later life, have intermingled those things. I always wonder how people write when they’re sitting still. It’s just it’s never worked for me.

Jonathan Fields: [00:11:13] That’s so interesting. You say that I learn when I’m standing or acting or moving, and I’ve tried to actually write while doing the same thing, you know, almost like speaking it out and then transcribing it and then seeing. And I can’t get the same thing, but I know when I have to learn really intensively, like I have a past life as a lawyer. And when I study for the bar, I would just hold an outline in my hand and pace outside for hours. Wow. While I was like, thinking it through and reviewing and trying to synthesize because I just found my brain Worked on a whole different way when my physical body was in movement.

Andrea Gibson: [00:11:47] Yeah. You know, my, uh, one of my housemates is a second grade teacher, and I think it took her a few years to learn that she had to let a number of her students stand up and move around while she was teaching a lesson, or they wouldn’t get it. So, uh, it’s sort of sweet in a way that we all, we all learn and we’re all so different. And I love the idea of, I don’t know, taking things in through our bodies, our brains, our, you know, from our temples to our toes. So.

Jonathan Fields: [00:12:16] Yeah, it’s and I’m kind of fascinated, actually, that, um, your friend was aware enough to really realize that some of the students needed to, to physical size, the experience to be able to integrate it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:12:31] Oh, yeah. She’s an amazing teacher. We actually met because we were both, um, teaching in a montessori kindergarten together. And, you know, I was there just because I love the kids so much. They were actually so much my inspiration for writing for so many years that when I stopped teaching to do poetry full time, I didn’t write for a year because they were so much my muse. But I remember watching her just, you know, and she was very young at the time. We’ve been friends for a long time, but she was just 20 and watching the the skill of learning how to teach individuals, and she was just a master at it.

Jonathan Fields: [00:13:09] Yeah, that’s so cool. It makes me wonder, given the time that we’re in now, are so much of school and education has gone remote, and a lot of people are lamenting the loss of, you know, in-person interaction and the ability to teach in that way. I almost wonder if those kids who actually need to create a non-traditional learning environment or situation, or physical ize it, or giving themselves the freedoms to do that now that they’re doing it in their own environment, I wonder if that might be a really interesting benefit that comes out of it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:13:43] Yeah, I could see it. I could see that being the case. You know, one thing that I’ve noticed, because this is the first time in my life I’ve done, you know, sort of anything on on Zoom’s watched, you know, zoom shows of other people and you know, how you can turn off your screen so they can’t see you, but you’re still watching. And I realize in my own enjoyment of, you know, music or a lecture or talk or something I’m watching online, I’m almost, yeah, always moving or doing something weird. And I don’t think before this time I would have known that that’s how I best take in things. You know how I listen the best. The first time I started doing online concerts, when the pandemic began, I was getting a flood of calls from my my manager during. The thing is saying, you have to stop moving. We can’t hear anything but the desk. You know, the desk shaking, the floor rattling. So I’m trying to be very as still as possible right now while we’re recording.

Jonathan Fields: [00:14:42] Right? But I mean, how how is that for you? Because I know I would imagine it. I wonder if that changes the nature of what comes out in a meaningful way. I know when I’m interviewed, when I’m on the other side of the mic, I went out and I purchased a broadcast quality headset with a ten foot cord, and I almost always say like, no video. And it was because I know I have to be moving and walking around. And granted, that’s not on video, but I know about myself that because I know that if I do the exact same thing but I’m sitting constrained in a chair, it’s somehow it feels like it comes out different. I wonder if you feel that what actually comes out of you is different when you’re sort of constrained by a chair versus when you’re moving?

Andrea Gibson: [00:15:25] Oh yeah, I think I definitely do. And, you know, I was listening to one of your podcasts the other day by, um, Gay Hendricks and his wife, Katy Hendricks does a lot of teaching about working with your emotions through your body. And, uh, I’ve seen I’ve done a few of her talks and I, I think that is also presents me more to, um, the ways that I’m moving. What that is encouraging me to feel or allowing me to feel. And there’s so much, you know, sort of restricting, uh, be still in some ways. And I think even if, you know, one of my friends, they just have one finger, they’re constantly moving. You know, it doesn’t have to be your whole body. But I think for sure. And then noticing where, uh, where particular emotions live in our body, you know, the anger in our jaw and, you know, fear in our belly, sadness and our chest often. And so, uh, if I think that I’m writing something and it’s furious and I’m moving around, but I feel that the words are more living in my chest, you know, listening to that and sort of taking a side route back to or a more direct route to the sadness instead of staying with the anger for a bit because, you know, typically the feeling that we’re feeling, usually there’s a feeling underneath it that is the more true feeling that we’re not.

Jonathan Fields: [00:16:46] Yeah, I love the visual also of sort of different feelings settling into different parts of your body, and almost like moving those parts of your body to get access to and release them.

Andrea Gibson: [00:16:57] And the stories that live in different parts of our bodies, you know? Yeah. I have this finger that I broke in a basketball game when I was 18. And, and it still sort of is achy sometimes, and I can feel it and be right back on this court in Bangor, Maine, where I just have to say it, we won the state championship. I can’t not say it.

Jonathan Fields: [00:17:23] All right. Well, you got to own it. I mean, hard won. Right?

Andrea Gibson: [00:17:26] Yeah, yeah, yeah, I gotta own it. Stephen King was in the audience, you know, it was Maine. He’s a basket. It was a big night.

Jonathan Fields: [00:17:36] And it’s all memorialized in that little finger.

Andrea Gibson: [00:17:38] Yeah. It is forever.

Jonathan Fields: [00:17:43] And we’ll be right back after a word from our sponsors. So you end up coming out out of college. And so writing is already a big piece of you. Creative writing, poetry starting to blossom. But I know in the early days and I’m curious whether it’s still a part of you, the idea of then going from, okay, I’m going to write things because I have all these things spinning in my head that I need to get out and synthesize. But going from there to stepping on stage is a whole different proposition.

Andrea Gibson: [00:18:14] I mean, it is for anyone, I think. And for me, it was absolutely terrifying. Um, because I had been known or I had identified myself, um, my whole life as somebody that was more afraid of public speaking than any anyone I knew. Like, I would rather somebody rap a boa constrictor around my neck than talk in public. And that’s still true. Which is strange to say, but, uh, yeah. To graduate college, I had to read one poem to my class, and my teacher actually allowed me to get drunk to do it because I could not I could not do it. Hope I don’t get him in trouble, but I could not do it without that. But then when I moved to Colorado, I went to my first poetry slam, and I remember walking into the room that night and the first time, as soon as this a guy, he’s actually a friend of mine now named Ian, started reading his poem. He was probably 20s into it, and I just knew I had to do that, and I knew it was going to terrify me the entire time, that it probably would never stop.

Andrea Gibson: [00:19:17] Terrifying. Terrifying me. But I was so in love with the art form. I was just so in love with the energy of the room, the connection. I think the thing that drew me the most was how much it felt like the audience was reading the poem for him, because the energy was so electric, it almost felt like this crowd of people were just pulling it out of him. And, uh, I just fell in love with the whole thing. And so the next week, I went back to the slam, and I read for the first time, and everybody was having a hard time staying in the room because it was so hard to watch me shake that much, I think. But to this day, if I see somebody performing and reading a poem and shaking and the papers just rattling in their hands, it’s just one of the most beautiful things to watch, because it’s the image of watching somebody do something they’re terrified of, but they love it too much not to.

Jonathan Fields: [00:20:13] Yeah. What was what was the feeling like for you of that first moment and beyond the physical reaction? Do you have any recollection? I mean, was it a blur to you? Was it this thing where it’s just sort of like it passed, or do you have any memories of what it actually felt like to be there in that moment for the first time, not only sharing your words, but also knowing that people were witnessing you physically shaking in front of them.

Andrea Gibson: [00:20:41] You know, I was I was so proud of myself, but not in the way that we typically, um, use the word proud. I felt this sort of solid love for myself, having nothing to do with the poetry, but with knowing I had done something that I never, ever thought I could do. And not only that, but that it was embarrassing in some ways. And then I the joy was so much bigger than the shame that I could almost feel it in my body, you know, dissolving. And I knew I wasn’t going to stop doing it, that it would be a giant part of my life.

Jonathan Fields: [00:21:17] What was the shame about?

Andrea Gibson: [00:21:20] shaking. You know, like.

Jonathan Fields: [00:21:21] Got it, got it, got it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:21:22] Mostly it was watching my friends worry about me, you know, like watching your friends. There’s something about that, you know, it’s. They should come up with a word for that emotion. But when you’re watching your loved ones worry about you, that is, uh. I mean, I’m feeling into it now, and it feels like this. Um, it’s a sadness sort of mixed with love and gratitude, but it’s also it’s it’s a hard thing to hold in certain moments.

Jonathan Fields: [00:21:50] Yeah. I know you’ve actually recently wrote a short sentence or two that really landed with me. You wrote the worst thing that ever happened to me was not the worst thing that ever happened to me. Hating myself for it was, yeah. Which kind of speaks to this to a certain extent.

Andrea Gibson: [00:22:03] Yeah. Yeah, definitely. I mean, that certainly wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to me that night. But yeah, it’s um, it’s like, you know, the traumas in our lives, um, we carry them as this, uh, you know, my therapist, actually, who I never, ever managed to go through a day without quoting. But my therapist, you know, talks about shame is kind of this gift we’re trying to give ourselves. Because by feeling shame, we’re trying to tell ourselves that if we had done something different, that thing wouldn’t have happened. And that’s why we say it’s our fault, and that’s why we keep hating ourselves for it is because then we have some, you know, sense of control and power over nothing ever happening to us. If only I had not done this, you know, done this thing. This was my fault. And it will never happen again because I have control. So shame is also a sort of a sweetness we’re trying to offer ourselves. But there are lots of better routes, I think.

Jonathan Fields: [00:23:04] Yeah, that’s such an interesting frame. It’s almost like it’s a grasping to certainty, like it’s a telling ourselves that we have some level of not just responsibility, but control over it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:23:14] Yeah, I think more than we more than anything, we want control. Um, and I think, uh, I don’t know if it’s, it’s cultural or not, but I think that we’re growing to want control more than we want a joy and love. And it’s kind of heartbreaking.

Jonathan Fields: [00:23:30] I don’t disagree with that. And I feel like given the that sort of like nature of just the world we live in these days, that, um, we’re feeling that more than ever, like the more groundless things get around us, I feel like the more we seek certainty and control. But I mean, fundamentally, you know, you stepping to a mic is you saying I am surrendering a certain amount of control because there is just you can prep all you want. You can spend vast amounts of hours writing and then practicing. And I don’t know if you if you do that, but the moment that you step onto a stage in front of a microphone with a live audience plan is over.

Andrea Gibson: [00:24:10] It is. Yeah, it is. And it’s also exciting that it’s over. Um, because, you know, it’s never stopped being less terrifying for me. I try to tell people that and I don’t believe me, but really, it’s never stopped being terrifying. And one thing that I’ve, uh, since the pandemic started and all my tours got canceled. I didn’t realize before this time how closely connected our joy is to our fear. That fear had some sort of aliveness in it, or a lot of aliveness in it for me. And also, I think that there’s a close connection sometimes between excitement and fear. It’s hard to tell the difference again. My therapist, um, would say that like, you know, the only difference between fear and excitement is that fear is excitement without the breath. So if you breathe through the fear, then you can turn it into excitement.

Jonathan Fields: [00:25:03] The idea of fear and excitement being really closely tethered also is fascinating to me. I kind of look at it as physiologically they create a nearly identical response in the body. They’re both anticipatory emotions, but one is anticipating dread and the other is anticipating possibility.

Andrea Gibson: [00:25:22] Yeah. Yeah, that’s a great way to look at it. It reminds me of, um, I was seeing this, this panic attack specialist for my panic attacks, and he was talking about something like that.

Jonathan Fields: [00:25:35] Yeah, and it’s interesting also. Um, so this has never left you the anxiety around getting on stage. And yet, as we sit here having this conversation, you’re a multi-time, I think, four time Denver Grand Slam winner, um, winner of the women of the World Poetry Slam. Your, um, before, you know, in before times, basically traveling nonstop and stepping on stages all over the place. So what’s interesting to me is that this feeling that you have every time you do it has never gone away. Maybe it’s diminished or you’ve learned how to harness it a bit, but it’s never gone away. And yet it also hasn’t stopped you from both developing to a point where you’re stunning at your craft, and it doesn’t overtake the joy that you feel.

Andrea Gibson: [00:26:25] I mean, sometimes it does, but it also, you know, it adds so much presence because in the beginning and, you know, it wasn’t quite the beginning, I think about five years in, I realized that when I was shaking and, um, for the first ten years that I was performing, everywhere I went, somebody would comment on how every poem I read, I was gasping for air, you know, because I was so nervous. And still when I perform, people expect me to. I don’t think I do that anymore, but I think people are still. So the gasping has gone away a little bit, but sometimes it’s there. But those I figured out that, uh, if in those moments where I’m really terrified, I search for, I search for the other feelings in my body and really let them be, uh, it really moves me through it and gets me back to a place of joy. So often when I’m feeling terrified, I’ll really notice that there is, um, there’s a lot of sadness. And if I let myself in the middle of the poem, feel this sadness, then something kind of breaks open, like saying yes to it. But also that fear on stage creates these authentic moments where I just never know what’s going to happen. And I never go on stage feeling like I know what’s going to happen. And I think almost any show I’ve ever done, people have commented that their favorite parts are the moments between the poems, um, when I’m just sort of stumbling around up there and commenting on whatever a lightning bolt is running through my body at that moment.

Jonathan Fields: [00:28:03] Yeah, I mean, it’s amazing to be able to sort of like, I don’t even want to. I was going to say push through it, but it’s really not pushing through it. It’s working with it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:28:10] Yeah. And then also, uh, welcoming it, um, welcoming it actually is a tool. I’ve, you know, because I struggle with panic attacks and that has been the biggest healing thing for panic attacks for me is that when the fear comes on. Um, what I say to the fear is make this bigger. Like, give me all the fear you can give me. And there is something about the lack of resistance that just chills out the fear. If I’m welcoming you, if I’m saying come on, then the fear is like, oh, okay. And then I notice it’s kind of that wall in my body that breaks down and was, you know, holding in the fear. I don’t know if that makes sense, but surrendering essentially.

Jonathan Fields: [00:28:54] Yeah.

Andrea Gibson: [00:28:54] Yeah.

Jonathan Fields: [00:28:55] Has that actually happened while you were on stage in the middle of performing or is it usually before.

Andrea Gibson: [00:29:01] So typically, you know, I’ve had a few panic attacks on stage. I’ll have I’m learning the difference between anxiety attacks and panic attacks. I have a lot of anxiety attacks on stage, and sometimes it it can come on by something that’s happening in the audience or something that is historically happened in the audience. Like one time I was doing a show in Denver. And in the middle of a poem, this man started charging down the center aisle screaming faggot at me. And now I’m at a show. If ever somebody gets up in their seat in the middle of a poem, I’ll. I’ll start to have an anxiety attack and have to work with it a bit. So typically it’s some sort of something in my memory that’s registering a past thing. And sometimes it could actually be the poem itself. Like my mind when I’m reading the poem, it’s like I’m watching a movie of my life and it’s always new. Even the poem, even though the poem is the same. The same. But I’ll just start watching all of what I’m talking about happen again. And if it’s a hard thing that I’m writing about, then that can also bring it on.

Jonathan Fields: [00:30:05] Yeah, that’s so interesting. So on the one hand, I think a lot of people would look at the process of writing a poem about something that was maybe hard for you in your life as almost cathartic in helping on a processing level. But then the performance of that poem, because of the way that you perform, is to essentially step back into it and almost relive it in a multi-sensory way, can itself become reacquainted with that same state?

Andrea Gibson: [00:30:33] Yeah. And it’s it’s sort of rare for me for that to happen. Like, typically it is, I would say 95% of the time or 98% of the time. It is healing. It feels like medicine to speak, actually speak something out of my body. It does feel like releasing this sort of stored up dark energy most of the time, and then some moments. Typically, I think if I’m not listening to myself well enough, right before I read the poem on whether or not that’s a good day for me to read it, but I rarely follow my set list just because, you know, come up with a tentative one. But then I’ll keep looking down at it to see if I can read that particular poem Authentically and also in a way that will be supportive of my own wellness before I read it.

Jonathan Fields: [00:31:22] Yeah, that’s so interesting. So it’s almost like you have all the set pieces in your mind, but you never actually, it’s almost like you’re choosing the set in real time as you’re performing, based on both what’s happening interactively between you and those there, and also just what’s happening with you internally and how you feel like you be with that.

Andrea Gibson: [00:31:41] Yeah, because spoken word, you know, I love the art form. And also I really hate it if. Uh. If the poet is not feeling what they’re saying. And so it’s it’s always important to me to be able to read something, um, perform something that feels honest that day. And sometimes I get really bothered by the confines of that authenticity, because sometimes that means I read a poem that I don’t respect the writing of as much, you know? And there’s this other poem where the writing’s way better, and there’s this writer I love in the audience, and I have to read the good, you know, and I just can’t do it because if I don’t read it authentically, it will suck.

Jonathan Fields: [00:32:21] Yeah, I’m curious about this. Um, I know with a lot of, you know, you go to see a band who’s been around for a long time, or a singer songwriter who’s been around for a long time, who has, you know, they have their favorites. You know, the audience favorites that every single time the audience wants to hear it. I don’t know whether it’s the same with spoken word, but if it is like and you’re not feeling it that night, like, what do you do?

Andrea Gibson: [00:32:45] Yeah, no, it’s really sad if I’m not feeling it. And there will be a lot of, you know, I’ll try. I’ll actually take a moment on stage if somebody hollers out a poem and see if I could, if I could do it. And, you know, sometimes I can and some sometimes I can’t. And then, you know, some of it is, um, you know, some of it is just like, hush. Maybe the poem is about somebody I’m currently in an argument with. And, you know, it happens more commonly, um, because so much of my writing is about social justice and my politics and have changed so much, like they changed constantly. And so I get a lot of requests for poems, um, that I no longer identify with the politics of that piece, or there is something in that piece that I feel is hurtful or I’ve been told is hurtful. And I mean, most of the time in my life, if somebody has called me out on a poem being hurtful, I can think of one instance where I disagreed. Um, almost always, somebody is just learned something, uh, faster than me and has been, um, kind enough to teach it. So I get a lot of requests for poems that I no longer are resonate with the the message of.

Jonathan Fields: [00:33:54] Yeah, that when that happens where you’ve come to a point where you understand. Okay, so now with hindsight and with a lot more growth and learning and conversation, you know, like I understand why it doesn’t feel right to perform anymore. Do you ever share that that reframing or that process with people who are asking about it? Or do you just sort of like pass it by?

Andrea Gibson: [00:34:18] Yeah, I almost always discuss why on the mic. Um, for example, I have this very old poem that’s one of my first spoken word poems that I ever did that I believe is the language I use in the poem is racist. And I didn’t know that at the time that I was writing it, but I know it now. And also, I paint my parents in a light that I am no longer comfortable with. It’s one of the only poems I’ve ever written where I wrote mad and I stayed mad, and I let that poem be in the world. And it’s just not how I view the human experience anymore. In regards to these people are bad, these people are good. And so I’ll just break all that down on stage typically.

Jonathan Fields: [00:35:01] Yeah. That’s amazing. So it’s sort of like you turn it into a learning experience for everybody as well. And also I mean, it’s really powerful modeling. I feel like for people who are up and coming and and almost feel like, well, you know, like you are a, you’re a creative person in the world, you’re an artist, a performer that you know, your body of work is your body of work. And it should stand and be public regardless of, you know, what harm, um, we understand it may cause now, with the benefit of really changing and evolving and deeper understanding. And I think it’s fascinating modeling to say, well, no, actually, you know, like we need to grow with the times and certain things are not appropriate to be out there anymore, because when they are, they continue to do harm. And I never intended harm. And now that I know it was doing harm, I have to do something about it. And maybe, you know, like we can all look at the work that we’re doing in that way.

Andrea Gibson: [00:35:53] Yeah. And it’s a I think it’s I mean, I’ve come to call it a blessing of being in the public eye a little bit, um, where if you’re going to do something, if you do something that hurts someone, like, you know, you’re not going to go without knowing it, um. Somebody will, you know, somebody will tell you there are far smarter people than me reading my poems. And. And and I learn and I and I learn a lot from them. And so. Yeah, that’s that’s a gift, I guess, to to know that if you do something wrong, somebody is going to tell you.

Jonathan Fields: [00:36:26] Yeah. And especially because, you know, so much of your work really is focused around gender norms, social reform, LGBTQ issues, compassion. And so you are speaking to the the points of intersection in our life where we feel it the most. Yeah. And and very and these days sadly tend to be most polarized as a society. And I feel like a lot of I’m curious about this. I feel like when I, when I hear you perform, I hear the words and but underneath the words, what I feel is a call for compassion and a recognition of shared humanity almost across any of what the words are.

Andrea Gibson: [00:37:06] Thank you for saying that. I’ve always felt like, you know, I’ve said for a number of years that the words and spoken word are not the most important thing. I don’t know if that’s what you’re saying, but it seems like it’s the energy of with which you’re approaching something. And so I think I’ve failed a lot with my words, and hopefully even in those failures, showed up in some way with my heart. And hopefully that can be heard by folks.

Jonathan Fields: [00:37:35] Yeah. And we’ll be right back after a word from our sponsors. You have made a really interesting decision. Also, I don’t know when it was. I know it was at least a chunk of years back to take pure spoken word and start to blend music with it often. Live music that’s being performed at the same time. I’m wondering whether when you started doing that, there was any pushback. I’m wondering whether in the culture, spoken word, there’s sort of an ethos that says it’s got to be based on the purity of the words and one person and a microphone versus, you know, having this fuller experience, sonic experience around it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:38:20] Yeah, there was pushback from lots of people. I think a lot of spoken word artists hated it. Um, for myself, I think that there were times that I also was constantly arguing with it. You know, if I go and hear a poet, this is not going to, uh, you know, do not do much good for my career to say this on here. But if I go in here, a poet, I want to hear them without music, you know, but I, uh, it is what I have the most fun with. And, you know, when I started touring, um, clubs and stuff, you know, the the owners of the place, they had no idea what they were booking. Like they thought they were booking comedy or, you know, they just weren’t used to having a poet. And so I was often they’d insist that, you know, there’d be a musical opener. So I started making tons of friends who are musicians, and I just love to make art with other people and collaborate. And, um, and that’s how it got started. I’m like, oh, if we’re both going to be on the stage, let’s do something together. Um, but yeah, uh, there’s a piece I may share today that I would not have written that piece if I thought that it was going to live on its own. It was written to live with music, and I’ve just loved making art with other people. But sure. Yeah, I don’t think everybody loves it. And then I think some other people prefer it because they get, I don’t know, maybe they’re just not big poetry fans, I’m not sure. But it also if you do it right and I’ve done it wrong a lot, but if you do it right, it can really add to the emotion of of the piece.

Jonathan Fields: [00:39:50] Yeah. I mean, it’s fascinating to me. I have always thought about those little decisions when you decide to add something into something, which some people would consider like, well, this is the pure form of the art. And when you add this in, you know, Does it amplify? It does. It does it give something new and better, or does it in some way bastardized it in a very past life? I was actually a yoga teacher, and I was one of sort of like the early people in New York City who started bringing music into my classes, and while some people got it and enjoyed it, other people were like, wow, this is the whole, quote, hybrid, you know, like yoga teaching thing is completely bastardized what it’s about. And I would say to them, well, yes. And you know, if you hold the view that it’s got to be only about pure silence in the words, I can understand that and I respect that. And at the same time, if you look at every healing tradition in the history of humankind, they all involve both incantation and rhythm and some other form of music. And it’s pretty modern that we’ve separated them. So it’s so easy. Like, I’m fascinated by this lens of how people and also who are the arbiters of what is like right or wrong or the best way to do it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:41:07] Yeah. That’s interesting. You bring that up because my partner is a writer and also yoga teacher, and she has she plays music in her class, and she puts so much thought into what she’s going to play in there. And I will, I will sit down with her yoga playlist and write to them all day long. And um, and I’ve done both yoga with and without, uh, you know, music. And for me, they’re different experiences and but also beautiful in their own way. And lately I’ve been preferring yoga with music.

Jonathan Fields: [00:41:39] Yeah, I agree, I think they’re just different. Yeah. You know, I’ll go to I love sometimes, you know, like, the same with meditation. I’ll meditate just in pure silence sometimes. But then sometimes I just kind of want something layered into it, um, and it just. It’s different. It gives me something different. Yeah. Um, so there are two pieces that you’re going to share with us. I believe if you could set up the first one. Tell me a little bit about it, and then I’d love to talk about a little bit more, and then we can maybe do the same for the second.

Andrea Gibson: [00:42:06] Sure. Yeah. So this is a poem titled Homesick: A Plea for Our Planet. And the music with the piece is done by Gregory Alan Isakov, who lives by me here in Colorado, who I’ve, I’ve toured with in the past. And when all tours got cancelled, Gregory went back to being a farmer, which he has been throughout his musician life as well. So this was a sweet collaboration and I’m going to play it for you. In the fifth grade, I won the science fair with a project on climate change that featured a paper mache ozone layer with a giant hole to which a paper mache sun burned, the skin of a Barbie in a bikini on a lawn chair, glaciers melting like ice cubes in her lemonade. It was 1987, in a town that could have invented red hats, but the school principal gave me a gold ribbon and not a single bit of attitude about my radical political stance, because neither he nor I knew it was a political stance. Science had not yet been fully framed as leftist propaganda. The president did not have a Twitter feed starving the world of facts. I spent that summer, as I had every summer before, racing to the forest behind my house, down the path. My father called the old logging road to a meadow thick with raspberry bushes, whose thorns were my very first heroes, because they did nothing with their life but protect what was sweet. Sundays I went to church but struggled to call it prayer. If it didn’t leave grass stains on my knees. I couldn’t call it truth if it didn’t come with a dare to crawl into the cave by the creek and stay there until somebody counted all the way to 100.

Andrea Gibson: [00:43:48] As a kid, I thought 100 was the biggest number there was. My mother absolutely blew my mind the day she said 101, 100 and what? Billionaires never grow out of doing that same math with years. Can’t conceive of counting past their own lifespans. Believe the world ends the day they do. Why are the keys to our future in the hands of those who have the longest commutes from their heads to their hearts? Whose greed is the smog that keeps us from seeing our own nature and the sweetness we are here to protect? Do you know, sometimes when gathering nectar. Bees fall asleep in flowers. Do you know fish are so sensitive? Snowflakes sound like fireworks when they land on the water. Do you know whales will follow their injured friends to shore up and taking their own lives? So to not let their loved ones be alone when they die? None of this is poetry. It is just the earth being who she is. In spite of us putting barcodes on the sea, in spite of us acting like Edison invented daylight. Dawn presses her blushing face to my window, asks me if I know the records in my record collection looked like the insides of trees. Yes, I say, there was nothing you have ever grown that isn’t music. You were the bamboo and Coltrane’s saxophone reed, the mulberries that fed the silkworms that made the slippers for the ballet, the pine that built the loom, that wove the hemp for Frida Kahlo’s canvas, the roses that dyed her paint. Hoping her brush could bleed for her body. Who more than the earth has bled for us? How do we not mold our hearts? After the first spruce tree, who raised her hand and begged to be cut into piano keys so the elephants could keep their tusks? The earth is the right side of history is the canyon my friend ran to when no one else he knew would echo his chosen name back to him is the wind that wailed through 1956 Alabama.

Andrea Gibson: [00:45:48] Until the poplar tree carved itself into Doctor King’s pulpit is the volcano that poured the mercury into the thermometer held under the tongue of Italy. Though she knew our fever was why her canals were finally running clear. She took our temperature, told us we were too hot, even after we’d spent decades claiming she was not. Our hands held to her burning forehead. We insisted she was fine. While wildfires turned redwoods to toothpicks, readying the teeth of the apocalypse, she sent a smoke signal all the way from California to New York City. Ash fell from the sky. Do you know the mountains of California used to look like they’d been set on fire. Because they were so covered in monarch butterflies? Do you know monarch butterflies migrate 3000 miles using only the fuel they stored as caterpillars in the cocoon? We need so much less than we take. We owe so much more than we give. Squirrels plant thousands of trees every year just from forgetting where they left their Laughter acorns. If we aim to be just half as good as one of the Earth’s mistakes, we could turn so much around. Our living would be seed. The future would have roots. We would cast nothing from the garden of itself. And we would make the thorns proud.

Jonathan Fields: [00:47:27] I want to stand up in applause.

Andrea Gibson: [00:47:30] That would be nice. I hope I get to see some applause sometime in the next two years. Applause is such a sweet communal thing. I love it.

Jonathan Fields: [00:47:40] Yeah, and I mean, how oddly poetic that the reason that you can is because just things are happening in our planet which are, um, changing things which are keeping us separate, which are isolating us. But, you know, bigger picture when you write a piece like that which is deeply compelling, deeply moving, very focused in the message that it’s sending. I’m curious whether you are intentional about being completely honest, letting it flow through you, writing something that feels real and raw and pure to yourself, and at the same time wanting to invite the greatest number of people into the conversation so that because this is no poem like that is also a call to action. And the more people you can have feel it and respond to it beyond being personally moved, you know, the more likely they are to act on it.

Andrea Gibson: [00:48:35] Yeah, that’s a, I think that’s the value of art that, you know, I don’t think people’s minds change very quickly, but people’s hearts can change in an instant. And I think that’s something that I love about spoken word. But all art, it can change your heart in an instant. Then your mind catches up over time. But I don’t think I’ve had a poem that I’ve written so directly in a long time. And there have been a lot of. I’ve done a lot of, uh, for lack of a better word, like dancing in my poems lately where, um, you’ll hear what the next, uh, poem I share. It’s nothing. So, like you said, direct it. Then with this, I really wrote it, hoping that it would do something. Like hoping that folks who hadn’t previously had a relationship with the Earth could see how the Earth is everywhere. You know, I have a lot of friends who live in the city, and they have a far different relationship with the earth or even thoughts about the Earth than I do. And I was writing, uh, that, you know, wanting to reach them because those folks are, um, you know, some of the greatest activists I know doing so much and, you know, sort of writing in the direction of, of their hearts.

Jonathan Fields: [00:49:48] Yeah. I think it also brings up one of the things that is truly unique about poetry in the context of poetry, that has a bigger message, that is speaking to issues of the day, and that is that when you’re also effectively building a case with a poem. Yeah, and inviting people to do something about it. When you contrast doing that through powerfully written verse versus laying out graphs and charts and statistics, it lands. It’s almost like, you know, when you start to quantify the arguments. I think for some people the rational brains is okay, I get it. But for a lot of people they eh, get defensive and then be start to say, okay, so here are specific things that I can find counter evidence to refute. But when you deliver the same thing in verse and it speaks to senses and emotion and story, it’s like it psychic bypasses all of that, and it just lands so deeply in a person’s soul that the impulse to just immediately controverted it in some way. I feel like it bypasses that. I wonder if you feel something similar.

Andrea Gibson: [00:51:02] I do, and I think that’s a lot of my draw to the art form. And I remember learning this lesson a lot. Um, at the beginning of the Iraq War. I had a friend in the war, and I remember reading all these statistics and then trying to write poems that, you know, to do something that were full of statistics and, and the statistics were heart wrenching and overwhelming and disgusting. But I learned in that process a lot of years ago now, that to tell the story of one person would often reach people more. Um, you tell the story of, you know, I, I there was this soldier who had come back from Iraq and, uh, he had been wearing, um, the dog tags of, for lack of a better word, like of soldiers that he was fighting against. And his family had thought he was wearing his own dog tags, but he had been wearing the dog tags of someone he had killed and ended up killing himself. And that story, I remember thinking, God, we could say numbers forever and there is so much there that is now, I can’t I can’t talk about it right, right now without getting upset. So yeah, to you can’t argue with the story of somebody’s life. You can’t argue that, you know, bees fall asleep in flowers like I’ve ever since I read that fact. I it doesn’t, you know, it doesn’t leave me. I’m just. The sweetness is overwhelming.

Jonathan Fields: [00:52:36] Yeah. Um, you brought a second piece today as well. And this is another very different, but equally powerful. Um, he set it up for us.

Andrea Gibson: [00:52:45] Yeah, well, will, and I recorded this in my basement in the beginning of the pandemic. And, um, and the music for this piece is done by an artist named Chris Perica, who is a close friend of mine. And, um, and I wrote this actually about a dear friend of mine named Buddy Wakefield, who is one of my favorite poets on earth, and he’s one of my best friends. But he really made me angry. One day I got in this we. I was so mad. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more angry at a friend. And in the middle of that anger, I decided to start writing, which I never do. I got this advice in college that you should never write in them unless you have some distance from a thing, so you can see it clearly. But I began writing with the intention of of shifting my anger to a place of gratitude, and I got about a few lines into this poem, and, uh, I just loved him so much I could not believe how quickly, uh, my anger shifted to appreciation. So it’s called A Year of No Grudges.

Andrea Gibson: [00:53:56] I think almost everyone tries hard to do good and just finds out too late. They should have tried softer. I’ve never in my whole life been level headed, but the older I get, the more level hearted. And I think we make gods who look like us for a reason. I think in spite of it all, we trust we can be believed in. When I don’t believe in myself, I try to remember I have walked on water like 700 times in Maine in the dead of winter. Where I come from, you can drive a pickup truck from one side of the lake to the other, and people have an unusually large amount of missing teeth and fingers, but you can still sell them whitening strips and wedding rings like crazy. Because where I come from, beauty is in the eye of anyone who sees what’s missing but can’t stop pointing to what’s still there. If there is no definition for love yet, I think that’s a good one. I’m writing this on a day. You did me wrong. I’m just a half a second outside the furnace of my rage. And I’m trying to focus a steeple of my attention. On all the teeth you still have, instead of the ones I know you’d happily knock out yourself if it would keep you from biting anyone again. And that’s how mistakes work. If you loving the right kind of people and you are the right kind of people. You’ve walked on water so many times. You know grace is slippery. There’s literally nothing anyone is more likely to fall from. Some sound advice I give myself like twice a second. Wear knee pads on the way to your ego. Andrea. Being right is boring. Rightness comforts only the tiniest parts of us. And when it comes to hearts, I want always to be a size queen. Because that’s how I found you. Lifting the spirits of everyone around you like hot air balloons just from the way you burn? To be a better person today than you’d been the day before? Burning to be better is my favorite quality on anyone. And you are on fire. Like a gay men’s choir singing the halftime show of a football game. I have been dancing in the end zone since the day you taught me how to break. Every promise I’ve made to my pain. Taught me my wounds will never, ever be bigger than I am. Thank goodness for you. Champion of the unkillable. Yes. Dandelion refusing to be picked for the bouquet. Five minutes into our first conversation, you knew I could take a punch. Better than I could take a compliment. And you talk to me about that once and bam, I was angel gossip. There were God rumors flying around my suddenly unheeded head. I love you because you never had a mirror face. Because the truth is nothing you could ever try to fake. So sometimes you look like a human scribble. Like a three year old is colored you in like you got too many feelings to stay inside the lines of your own skin. But that friend, that is the masterpiece. I love you because we both showed up to kindness tryouts with notes from the school nurse that said we were too hurt to participate, but we learned how wrong we were. And weren’t those the best days when we learned how wrong we were and so got to grow into our goodness, throwing the peach pits of our old selves into the garden to grow sweetness. Sugar. I pick you to be the captain of my chosen family tree. I pick you to throw the party when I leave this world, knowing I’m going to run death like a stop sign and keep going. I pick you to finish all my half written poems. Even though you’re terrible at writing poetry, I pick you to finish this one. Especially this list of compliments you’d be a hypocrite not to take. So take it before I remember. I’m mad at you, asshole. But what? Only human on the whole planet. Who knows what I mean when I. When I say God, I mean everyone down here who understands that when I get to heaven, I will refuse to call in heaven if who put me through hell isn’t there.

Jonathan Fields: [00:58:45] Mhm. What? Um. What goes through you when you hear yourself perform that? Because it’s kind of watching your face as you are listening.

Andrea Gibson: [00:58:58] Yeah. I was actually feeling what was I feeling. I was um, I was feeling sad really. Um, but I was also it was one of those sad. You know, I often have a hard time deciphering in my body between sadness and love. They intermingle too much for me. But I was feeling sad about, you know, the grudges that are so easy to hold. And I wrote it before the pandemic, but, um, when I decided to share it, you know, thinking that this pandemic might last a year, it probably will be longer. But the idea of this being a year of no grudges, like if you’re holding a grudge against somebody right now. This is a really good time to let it go. Not just for their sake, but it’s such a burden to carry. Like, bitterness is so painful. But what was hitting me and listening to it was just how easy it was. It was so simple to move from that anger, which I didn’t think I was going to let go of for months in just a matter of minutes to appreciation. And, um, yeah, I’ve heard somebody said once, like, the only thing we have control over in this life is where we put our attention. And to just shift my attention in that moment was really lovely, and it released me from, you know, anger is not fun to carry. And yeah, I love that dude so much. And and one of my favorite lines of it is you’re terrible at writing poetry just because he’s just such an exceptional poet.

Jonathan Fields: [01:00:28] Just sneaking in a quick little dig there. Um, yeah, I mean, it. I go back to what I shared earlier, which is I’m listening to the words, but what I’m hearing is a is just a feeling. Is a mood is a vibe. And and the message I get, but it kind of just comes in. I know you have um, you said elsewhere, uh, maybe more than a poet. I’m kind of a public feeler. I just get up there and feel everything all over the place.

Andrea Gibson: [01:00:58] Yeah, yeah, I wish, I wish not so much. Sometimes it’d be nice to have a few days without so many feelings. That was like a diagnosis a psychiatrist gave me once. Like, the problem is, you feel too much, and I’m like, yes, I know that. But I also don’t know if I want to get rid of it.

Jonathan Fields: [01:01:17] Yeah. I mean, and that actually is a curiosity. Do you feel like, um, along with feeling so much and so deeply, you know, that without that there’s no work, there’s no creativity. There’s no, you know. And I guess maybe the deeper question, what I’m really trying to ask you is because I’ve seen so many artists, so many people who are in this sort of generative space where something comes out of the depths of their soul and turns into beautiful painting, words, music, um, attach themselves to the notion that not just feeling, but suffering must always be there for them to to do work at the level that they want to be able to offer. And I wonder how that all ends with you.

Andrea Gibson: [01:02:09] Yeah. Um, I’ve I’ve thought about that so much. Firstly, I think there’s a difference between, uh, feeling, um, you know, harder feelings like, uh, grief and terror. Um, there’s a difference between that and suffering. And to me, those are two different things. Like, you can you can feel sad. Um, but the suffering comes, I think, with, like, um, having a ton of desire to get rid of that sadness. For me at least, that’s where a lot of the pain comes in. If I’m like, if I just let the sadness be, it typically moves out of my body more quickly, so allowing it to exist helps it move. But as far as the narrative, I think it’s something that is permeated. A spoken word a lot is that you can’t write a good poem unless you’re suffering and or unless you’re in pain, and I don’t I don’t believe that at all. And I wish for artists like no poems ever. No, no, no art. Ever. If it means you get to, you know, have your life full of love and joy and gratitude. So I’d like to do away with that narrative, honestly, because I’ve seen it impact young people, um, who almost feel like they don’t have permission to be joyful if their sadness created so much art.

Andrea Gibson: [01:03:25] I don’t actually think the pain is where art comes from. I think it comes from Honesty, and we may have not created as enough a space to celebrate art that is that is blissful, you know, or that it’s almost like turning a sock inside out that sadness. The second is like it goes inside out and I can’t really explain. I know that image might not make sense, but as soon as something becomes art, then it’s it’s important to recognize that sometimes it almost immediately turns to you could turn immediately grief to joy. Yeah, you have so many different thoughts about this, but I don’t know if everybody knows. But in the spoken word, you know, there are a lot. It’s a very young art form, and in my opinion, I would love to see more happy poems, um, more celebratory poems and more people wanting to hear those types of poems just because it’s such, you know, it’s our life too. And I don’t want artists to ever feel like they have to, Do you know? Live their entire lives so miserable?

Jonathan Fields: [01:04:34] Yeah. And I think that is probably a pretty common experience in spoken word, but just across nearly every art form. And I agree with you, I, I think we all have to experience life. And some of that involves hard things and tough things, and some of that involves pain. Um, yeah. But we don’t have to, um, invite it. And I also, I love the frame that you brought, which is that the suffering comes from an almost maniacal attempt to rid ourselves of it, rather than acknowledging that this this is a part of it all. And I didn’t ask for it, but it’s here. Yeah. So now what do I do with this? How do I be with it in a way that’s in some way, um, I can find meaning in it. And if it goes away and if there are things I can do to help, great. But. And if not, then at least I can understand it and transmute it into something positive.

Andrea Gibson: [01:05:29] Yeah. And I also don’t ever want to deny like or say don’t feel grief. Um, we all like to be human is to grieve and to is, you know, to love is to grieve, and to be joyful is to, you know, be sad when the joy goes, oh, all of it exists. Um, there just tends to be sometimes I think that a lot of what’s fueling art is the grief. And I just want to give artists permission to or faith that joy can do it to, you know? Um, just because I do know, I mean, when I feel into and it’s not just artists, it’s activists as well, like, my, um, activist community just is like, hearts are so heavy right now everywhere, all over the world. And to offer yourself to, to be reminding yourself that you deserve joy and to nurture that and to take time to do that and that it also will create its own, you know, beautiful things.

Jonathan Fields: [01:06:30] Mhm. I love that and it feels a good place for us to come full circle as well. So sitting here in this container of Good Life project, if I offer up the phrase to live a good life, what comes up.

Andrea Gibson: [01:06:42] To live a good life? Oh, to be connected, um, to love. To celebrate, to feel deeply and to continuously be becoming. To welcome the becoming and the shift that, you know, hopefully, um, in our last breaths here where I want to in my last breath think. But there’s more I wanted to become and then hopefully the others, you know, it’s like running death like a stop sign. And you just keep on going and keep keep becoming.

Jonathan Fields: [01:07:11] Um. Thank you.

Andrea Gibson: [01:07:12] Yeah. Thank you so much for having me.

Jonathan Fields: [01:07:16] Hey, before you leave, if you love this episode, safe bet, you’ll also love the conversation we had with Ocean Vuong about navigating struggle and making peace with your story. You’ll find a link to Ocean’s episode in the show notes. This episode of Good Life Project was produced by executive producers Lindsey Fox and me, Jonathan Fields. Editing help by, Alejandro Ramirez, and Troy Young. Kristoffer Carter crafted our theme music. And of course, if you haven’t already done so, please go ahead and follow Good Life Project in your favorite listening app or on YouTube too. If you found this conversation interesting or valuable and inspiring. Chances are you did because you’re still listening here. Do me personal favor, and second favor is share it with just one person, and if you want to share it with more, that’s awesome too, but just one person even then, invite them to talk with you about what you’ve both discovered to reconnect and explore ideas that really matter, because that’s how we all come alive together. Until next time. I’m Jonathan Fields signing off for Good Life Project.