Listen to the podcast episode here or read a formatted transcript below.

Give it time.

This has been my mantra of sorts for the last few years.

I’ve put these words on shirts and stickers, written them into poems, and have whispered them to myself when I try to jump ahead and I’m always trying to jump ahead. 

Give it time.

It’s the advice I share with young artists and creatives.

Words I wish I had told myself years before.

These three words are echoed by creation.

If you listen carefully you can hear the trees groan them and flowers sing them.

My mom said something like this years ago and I’d like to tell you the story. 

The following is the introduction to my first book, I’m All Over the Place: A Book of Poems, Prayers, and Wonderings. 
If you haven’t grabbed a copy yet, you’re in luck!
It’s available on my website or Amazon.


And this is the introduction …


The summer between third and fourth grade I woke each morning to watch Space Jam on our oversized box shaped television in the living room. I popped the tape into the VCR and for the next 100 minutes I watched Michael Jordan and the Looney Tunes take on the Monstars from Moron Mountain. With a basketball in my hands I’d mimic every move as I sang off key to I Believe I Can Fly.

And for a moment, I believed I could.

After Michael Jordan jumped from the free-throw line, dunking to defeat the Monstars and win back his friend’s talents (spoiler alert), I’d put on my Nikes and shoot hoops beneath the blazing Florida sun until it disappeared for the night. 

There was no question in my mind that I was going to be like MJ.

I felt most alive with a basketball in my hands.  On the basketball court there was this unshakeable freedom, a collision of beauty and wholeness that held opportunity for something magical to take place. Basketball is like a blank page as it anticipates a story to be written, a place where anything could become. 

In middle school I stood at the free-throw line with less than a second left on the clock. The game was tied and I needed to make one free-throw for us to win the game.
Nerves swarmed in my stomach like an army of bees as I felt every pair of eyes on me.
Even the cute cheerleaders.
Especially the cute cheerleaders. 
The referee bounced the ball to me as I began to channel my inner Michael Jordan.
Sweat dripped from my forehead as I tried to slow myself down, taking a deep breath, exhaling nerves.
I dreamed of hitting this shot thousands of times, practicing it daily in our front yard.
I bounced the ball three times before spinning it in my hands, just like MJ. As the ball spun on my fingers I could feel every raised ridge of the leather. Before I bounced the ball again I heard my mom exclaim from the bleachers, “Take your time!”

Thanks mom.

Even if it was the wrong time, this is what I needed to hear.

And recently I’ve been needing to hear the things I know to be true.

I was in middle school 15 years ago and soon after stepping foot into high school did my dream of becoming a professional basketball player walk out the other side. Setbacks, surgeries, and topping out at 5’10’’ helped bring this dream to its unfortunate end. When you let go of a dream, something inside of you dies and with mourning comes questions and uncertainty. 

With setback comes questions and uncertainty.
And with questions and uncertainty come lies.
Fake truths begin to blend themselves into our thinking, infiltrating our lives and we slowly come to believe them.

That we aren’t enough. Or worthy. Or capable. 

That we don’t matter. And no one will miss is if we are gone.

I’ve come to learn the truth is easier to believe when all is fine, but once struggle or setback enters the picture, lies become louder and the truth becomes difficult to believe.
Or remember.
Or hold on to.
We begin to distance ourselves from the truth we believe and instead draw closer the lies, to the great fear welling within.
And fear does a wonderful job of silencing the truth.
And when the truth is silenced, questions begin to weigh heavy.
And uncertainty begins to cloud certainty.
And doubt places distance between who I am and who I want to become. 

That’s why I started writing.
A blank page became my basketball court, a place where I came alive, writing myself back to life.
With a pen in my hand I began to see the truth deep within, scribbling myself back to life. I was able to find beauty in the mundane, coming alive like I did on the basketball court. I learned how to wrestle with the noise and how to seek the silence; to fight the constant chaos and learn how to “ take my time.” 

In my head, I’m all over the place, but writing kept me from going over the edge, from scribbling the final goodbye. Writing has reminded me this is all worth living for, the same reminder basketball gave me. The same freedom I found in basketball, i found in writing. Day after day and page after page I found myself  searching and sifting through thoughts, questions, and wonderings. 

And that’s exactly what this book is full of: poems, prayers, and wondering.

I hope you enjoy.

With hope,

Tanner

For more of my poetry, check out my books!