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

 

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