The Òrga Spiral Podcasts
Where do the rigid rules of science and the fluid beauty of language converge? Welcome to The Òrga Spiral Podcasts, a journey into the hidden patterns that connect our universe with radical history, poetry and geopolitics
We liken ourselves to the poetry in a double helix and the narrative arc of a scientific discovery. Each episode, we follow the graceful curve of the golden spiral—a shape found in galaxies, hurricanes, and sunflowers, collapsing empires—to uncover the profound links between seemingly distant worlds. How does the Fibonacci sequence structure a sonnet? What can the grammar of DNA teach us about the stories we tell? Such is the nature of our quest. Though much more expansive.
This is for the curious minds who find equal wonder in a physics equation and a perfectly crafted metaphor. For those who believe that to truly understand our world, you cannot separate the logic of science from the art of its expression.
Join us as we turn the fundamental questions of existence, from the quantum to the cultural, and discover the beautiful, intricate design that binds it all together. The Òrga Spiral Podcasts: Finding order in the chaos, and art in the equations Hidden feminist histories. Reviews of significant humanist writers. -The "hale clamjamfry"
The Òrga Spiral Podcasts
Kurihara Sadako: Let Black Eggs Hatch!
In the atomic desert of Hiroshima, a poet named Kurihara Sadako bore witness to the unthinkable. From that abyss, she did not offer a simple plea for peace. Instead, she gave us a searing mandate: “Let us be midwives!” and her profound metaphor: “Let Black Eggs Hatch!”
The “black egg” is the hardened, terrifying reality of hatred, war, and oppression we find ourselves within. Our instinct is to reject it, to crush it, to deny its existence. But Kurihara’s call is far more radical and transformative. She demands we recognize this darkness not as an end, but as a potential beginning. We must clasp this painful reality to our warmth, applying the relentless pressure of conscience and courage until it cracks open. From within that shell, something new and struggling—a fragile but living hope—can emerge.
This is not passive hope. It is the arduous, active work of midwifery, of nurturing life in the face of death. It is the work of the Sudanese journalist documenting atrocities, of the Israeli and Palestinian parent mourning together, of every soul who chooses solidarity over apathy.
Kurihara’s lesson is that humanity’s future is not found by ignoring the black eggs, but by incubating them. We must confront the hatred within and around us, not with greater hatred, but with the stubborn, life-giving determination to hatch a new consciousness. The shell is already breaking. Let us be the midwives for the world trying to be born. Let us gather our collective warmth and say together: Let Black Eggs Hatch!