Sep 4, 2019
Natasha is a doing her PHD in organisational psychology at Canterbury University on belonging and community. In this wide ranging interview we talk about her childhood and what shaped her, as well as why she has such an interest in deepening relationships. We start off with a poem she wrote and that really sets the tone for what follows.
This is the 125th interview so if you enjoy it, check out some of the others at www.theseed.nz
Video version of interview here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwj1dlmKO5Q&t=1s
Unchatter website: www.unchatter.com
Unchatter Facebook page: www.facebook.com/unchatter
Personal page: www.natashazimmerman.com
Description from Unchatter website:
"We speak an average of at least 7,000 words every day. How many of them are meaningful ones? Every person you interact with has an untold story, just waiting to be unearthed - and so do you. This is your invitation to step into deeper connection with yourself and the beautiful, mysterious human beings around you. It just might change your life."
Poem that Natasha reads during the episode at the start:
I am from frigid six-month winters and the abiding awe of
From harvest-time suppers in dusty fields
And the clean, clean earth of mud-soaked country roads.
I am from oceans away and here.
I am from America, but not this one.
I belong everywhere I’ve ever been.
I am from stacks and stacks of dog-eared books,
From abandoned umbrellas and the golden hour.
I am from poetry and cello music,
From furrowed brows and furrowed fields.
I am from kisses by starlight and broken hearts by daylight.
I am from knowingness and mystery.
I am from the certainness of the sacred.
I am from my grandpa’s galoshes and gentle shoulder squeezes.
I am from the strong hands of my grandmothers,
Made of sterner stuff than me.
I am from big questions and small ones too,
And I am from the loveliest of all human acts:
The soft soul-bow of inhabiting this moment with you.
Poem written about this episode:
Abiding awe, you say.
Those words speak to me of patience.
Of planting deep into dark soil,
grateful for the sun’s warmth.
Of watching, hoping for rain.
Then watching miracles,
as the smallest of seeds rise.
From hard casings to soft growth.
From death into life.
Transformed from within.
What might these curated conversations reveal
as we scratch beneath the hard surface,
of repetitive answers to the simple
yet profound, “how are you”?
Getting past that first hard layer
to the rich places where roots can grow.
What seeds might be planted if we
come together with an attitude
soaked in vulnerability, and gratitude.
What might such seeds yield as a harvest?
Let’s plant and see.