. . . our heart always exceeds us
I'm not quite sure what Rilke means by this, but, viscerally, I'm skeptical of ignoring the notes that fall from a generous wind. May we not enjoy those notes while we wait watchfully for those eternal hands to play upon our strings?
my own experiencing of this is in the moment when something entirely unexpected walks in the door - metaphorically - the magic fairy for example and plays me. it's an exceptional experience that has sometimes showed up in my teaching, my writing, my photography, my speaking, my painting and even my cooking! steven
makes me wonder of our moments of discord though, our dissonance? who plays us then? or is that born of our not allowing, but instead of behaving very badly, as stubborn children?xoerin
"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!