BE

I'm too alone in the world, yet not alone enough
to make each hour holy.
I'm too small in the world, yet not small enough
to be simply in your presence, like a thing—
just as it is.

From the Book of Hours I, 13

From A Year with Rilke

I have been absent for some time on the blog. I am going to try and get back into it. Here are several things bouncing around in my mind. Also a short update of life at present.

(borrowing from my good friend Sassy Sap, I compiled a list for you)

1. Learning to be mindful of life--pain and pleasure

2. On a vegetarian diet

3. Going to start taking care of myself: vitamins, better eating, exercise

4. I'm addicted to Twitter

5. Going to get a tattoo. Now in the process of designing and deciding on placement. 

6. Feel at one with my straight hair...like it is who I am!

I hope you are all well and I'm  hopeful for a summer full of sun, beach, good books, writing and continued growth.

Cheers,

Annie

 

Judgement

Allow your judgments their own undisturbed development, which, like any unfolding, must come from within and can by nothing be forced or hastened. Everything is gestation and then birth. To allow each impression and each embryo of a feeling to complete itself in the dark, in the unsayable, the not-knowing, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and humbly and patiently to await the dawning of a new clarity: that alone is the way of the artist—in understanding as in creating.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Viareggio, April 23, 1903

Letters to a Young Poet

I've shared of this poet, Rainer Maria Rilke, before and again his words move me. I read this and froze with the quiet peace that comes from understanding. That kind of understanding that you already knew somewhere in your soul but had yet to put words to. 

It is funny because just yesterday I was speaking with a friend about judgement, righteous anger, opinion, and the process of finding who you are. No conclusion was discovered in that conversation other than it is a process to self  and other acceptance. Then  when reading what Rilke had to say especially here:"...allow each impression and each embryo of a feeling to complete itself in the dark, in the unsayable, the not-knowing, beyond reach of one's own understanding..." To allow ones self this slow process of understanding; like the way an embryo slowly takes 9 months to grow to a baby that is then birthed with pain into LIFE drew deep and meaningful imagery for me. (difficult to explain in words, but easily felt as a mother)

Then again he prods us to "patiently await the dawning of a new clarity..." This habit of patience is to be practiced and valued above the harshness that we are shown and taught from this a young age. In this aggressive and fast-paced world of competition, dark judgement, and self rejection it is a challenge to slow to the quiet patience Rilke speaks of. To suspend judgement and let it form in you quietly, this is what I want to practice.

Slowing to understanding and creating,

Annie

Twitter and Rilke

I've started tweeting. It began for work and now it has become a past-time verging on an addicting activity for me. Though much of it has been fun musings and interactions I have also come across some great information....even inspiring....

One thing I started doing was "following" artist/writers/poets/film makers/musicians. I believe I do this in an effort to surround myself with these people that are compelled to create. I don't fancy myself as any of the above or to be the creative type. I am insecure about my artistic sensibilities. What I do know is that I want to learn about this creative-process. I want to enmesh myself around creativity. I want to see and feel it my bones.

I came across this blog "A Year with Rilke" and this poem. Over the past 2 days I have left it open on my computer and have read it over and over again. It has invaded me. Each time I'm seeing and feeling something new in its words and stanzas. In the darkness of the reality there is such beauty and hope.

Posted from "A Year with Rilke"

Want the change. Be inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of a body as it turns away.

What locks itself in sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.

Pour yourself out like a fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.

Every happiness is the child of a separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming a laurel,
dares you to become the wind.

Sonnets to Orpheus II, 12


Signed,

 Annie