For something to be useful to the spirit is not very valuable to

Opening Scene – Narrated by Host

The room was softly lit, the evening’s last light casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Jack sat at his desk, papers scattered around him, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. His fingers lightly drummed the edge of a coffee cup, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. The steady hum of the city outside seemed far removed from the stillness in the room. He was caught in reflection, as though something important was just beyond his grasp.

Jeeny sat nearby, a cup of tea in hand, her gaze flickering between her book and Jack. She could sense the restlessness in him, the silent tension of something he was wrestling with. She waited patiently, knowing that sometimes the right words could help unlock those unspoken thoughts.

Host: The silence felt thick, as though the conversation was waiting to unfold.

Jeeny: Her voice was soft, but filled with purpose, cutting through the stillness. “Jack, I came across a quote today that made me think of you. It’s from Miller Williams. He said, ‘For something to be useful to the spirit is not very valuable to get your covered wagon across the desert. We have adopted that attitude so thoroughly that any American father whose son tells him he wants to write poetry will be embarrassed.’ What do you think about that?”

Jack: His eyes lifted slowly, the weight of the words sinking in. He leaned back in his chair, fingers resting on the edge of his notebook. “You know, it’s such a stark observation. The idea that usefulness is tied to something practical, to survival — to getting from point A to point B. Poetry, or anything of the spirit, isn’t considered useful in that sense. It’s not about production or achieving something tangible. It’s about the deeper, more intangible aspects of life, and that’s something many people overlook, isn’t it?”

He paused, his voice becoming more reflective. “It’s like we’re so focused on what can help us survive — food, shelter, career, money — that we’ve lost sight of what nourishes us beyond the physical. We forget that the soul needs something more than practicality. We need creativity, expression, connection.”

Jeeny: She nodded, her gaze steady, understanding the deeper implications of his words. “Exactly. Williams is pointing out how, in our culture, practicality has become the measure of worth. We’ve equated value with what helps us get by in the world, but we’ve forgotten that the spirit needs nourishment too. Creativity, like poetry, may not have a tangible outcome, but it has a profound impact on our well-being. It feeds us in ways we often overlook.”

Her voice softened, almost reassuring. “The embarrassment you feel when someone wants to pursue something like poetry is a reflection of how ingrained that mindset is. We’ve been taught to value what’s immediately useful, and we dismiss anything that doesn’t seem to have a clear purpose in our daily lives. But the irony is, those things — the intangible, the creative — are often what give life meaning.”

Jack: His expression grew more thoughtful, the idea beginning to settle into something deeper. “I think I’ve been guilty of that — focusing so much on the practical, on what gets me through the day, that I’ve neglected the things that bring me joy, that speak to my spirit. The problem is, when you live in a world that rewards the tangible, you forget that there’s something more important than just surviving. We need art, we need expression, we need poetry to make sense of everything else.”

He smiled faintly, the clarity beginning to form. “Maybe we’ve all been measuring our worth by the wrong standards, focusing on what’s useful for survival instead of what’s useful for the soul. Poetry might not help you cross a desert, but it might help you survive the emotional deserts of life.”

Jeeny: She smiled softly, her eyes filled with quiet encouragement. “Exactly. Life isn’t just about getting from one point to the next; it’s about what nourishes you along the way. The work of the spirit — creativity, art, poetry — it gives us depth, it helps us process the world and our emotions, even if it doesn’t serve an immediate practical purpose. And the truth is, it often has more value in the long run than the things we think are necessary.”

Her voice softened, almost like a gentle reminder. “What you create or express, whether it’s poetry, music, or any form of art, isn’t meant to be judged by its usefulness. It’s meant to be felt, to be experienced. That’s where the real value lies.”

Jack: He nodded slowly, a quiet sense of peace filling him as the realization sank in. “I see now. I’ve been so focused on usefulness, on what gets things done, that I’ve neglected the importance of the intangible. Things like art and poetry might not have a clear, practical outcome, but they feed the spirit, and that’s just as important. Maybe it’s time to let go of the idea that only what’s useful matters.”

His smile grew slightly, a sense of freedom settling over him. “Poetry, creativity, art — those are the things that give life meaning beyond the basics. They allow us to reflect, to grow, and to connect to something greater than just surviving.”

Jeeny: She smiled warmly, her voice full of quiet satisfaction. “Exactly. The things that feed the soul are just as important as the things that feed the body. We need both to live fully. Life isn’t just about what’s practical; it’s about what gives us purpose and joy. And it’s the things that speak to the spirit that give life depth.”

Host: The room felt lighter now, the earlier restlessness replaced with clarity. Jack seemed to have found a deeper understanding of what truly matters — not just the tangible or practical, but the intangible, the things that nourish the spirit. The world outside continued its rhythm, but inside, the conversation had shifted: life isn’t just about survival — it’s about finding meaning, beauty, and purpose in the things that feed the soul.

End Scene.