Podcast
On Being with Krista Tippett
This poetry collection originated from a question the author asked herself while looking at trees. It explores the complexities of the author's heritage and the contradictions of homecoming after forced removal.
I had taken a job at University of Tennessee, Knoxville and wonderful people, one of the best, you know, I'm still in touch with them there. And I took it for a number of reasons, but one, it was down...
— Episode: Joy Harjo — The Whole of Time
Episode: Joy Harjo — The Whole of Time
This poetry collection originated from a question the author asked herself while looking at trees. It explores the complexities of the author's heritage and the contradictions of homecoming after forced removal.
I had taken a job at University of Tennessee, Knoxville and wonderful people, one of the best, you know, I'm still in touch with them there. And I took it for a number of reasons, but one, it was down in our homelands and my husband, who's the same tribal nation, same ceremonial ground, we wanted to go see all of these places our families came from. And we still knew names of places, stories. And I even found a house that belonged to an uncle of mine in Columbus, Georgia. And the book got started because we were preparing to leave, to go back to Tulsa. And I was thinking, what do I do with this? We came here looking for our people, looking for the stories for this place that our origin stories have their roots here. Our people's roots are here in these plants, like these kind of plants. And it's so beautiful. And I can see why sometimes people would say don't go back because it's devastating. It would break your heart. And there I'm thinking, we are so excited about going back to Tulsa, going what we call home. How can this be? What do I do with this? Because do with this with the heartbreak that happened when we were forcibly walked out of our homes at gunpoint, loaded up and marched across states, across the Mississippi to, you know, what do I do with this? What do I do with this contradiction? And I was looking out into the trees there one morning and my spirit says, well, you know, what did you learn here? And that's how the book came.
Yes, out of that question.
When Adolph Sax patented the first saxophone on June 23rd, 1846, the Creek Nation was in turmoil. The people had been moved west of the Mississippi River after the Creek Wars, which culminated in the Battle of Horseshoe Bend. We were putting our lives back together in new lands where we were promised we would be left alone. The saxophone made it across the big waters and was introduced in brass bands in the South. The music followed rivers into new towns, cities, all the way to our new lands. Not long after, in the early 1900s, my grandmother, Naomi Harcho, learned to play saxophone. I can feel her now when I play the instrument we both loved and love. The saxophone is so human. Its tendency is to be rowdy, edgy, talk too loud, bop into people, say the wrong words at the wrong time. But then you take a breath all the way from the center of the earth and blow. All that heartache is forgiven. All that love we humans carry makes a sweet, deep sound, and we fly a little.
Episode: [Extended] Joy Harjo with Krista Tippett
This poetry collection explores the author's journey of self-discovery and reclamation of her Muscogee Creek heritage, particularly focusing on the experience of forced removal from ancestral lands and the lasting impact on her people. It was inspired by the author's time in Knoxville, Tennessee and her subsequent return to Tulsa.
I was looking out into the trees there one morning and my spirit says, well, you know, what did you learn here? And that's how the book came.
When Adolph Sax patented the first saxophone on June 23rd, 1846, the Creek Nation was in turmoil. The people had been moved west of the Mississippi River after the Creek Wars, which culminated in the Battle of Horseshoe Bend.