March 6, 2011

Where I Am Going

Still Life with Apples, Grapes, Pears and Leaves

Again the murmur of my own deep life grows stronger,
flowing along wider shores.
Things grow ever more related to me,
and I see farther into their forms.
I become more trustful of the nameless.
My mind, like a bird,
rises from the oak tree into the wind,
and my heart sinks through the pond's reflected day
to where the fishes move.

Book of Images


  1. I remember steven's comment on yesterday's post "In Our Own Way" in which he talked about seeing through filters as both a gift and a curse, after Rilke's words Ever turned toward what we create, we see in it / only reflections of the Open, darkened by us. Today Rilke focuses on the gift part of seeing things ever more related to himself. His mind and heart keep going deeper and higher and farther into the essence of things, while "the murmur of [his] own deep life grows stronger." As he does this, he himself is becoming more like the animal, more like the things, so when he says things grow ever more related to me (I wonder what the German "means") we already know that this is far from the ego-encrusted statement that it might be in someone else's case. Things are related to him because he has become so intensely "involved" with the things.

  2. "my heart sinks through the pond's reflected day
    to where the fishes move"
    i followed the descent of this phrase with all my being - wow! steven

  3. diffused. he becomes diffused. shafts of light and leopards. this is a beautiful passage. i should like to live inside of it and know nothing else. let the rest come to pass.

    only in moments. it happens for me. only in moments. and then there is grief. howling grief, not audible necessarily, but howling just the same. grief celebrates both the arrival and the passing.


  4. He is expanding--diffusing, as erin said. His soul. It is like falling backwards into the fountain, complete trust, oneness. How often can any of us feel that? Would we be able to describe it if we could?
    Erin, I do understand the grief...

  5. I am loving what you guys are doing here with Rilke writings. I am a huge fan. His poems just melts me into subliminal bliss. Really love this blog.


"Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Go ahead, bloom recklessly!