tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732202925039933709.post5274512211622641312..comments2023-07-21T05:31:02.451+02:00Comments on A Year with Rilke: I Dig for You, God, Like TreasureRuthhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14204074161539605133noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732202925039933709.post-82143188646647349902011-06-30T15:06:29.921+02:002011-06-30T15:06:29.921+02:00Wonderful commentary, Ruth.Wonderful commentary, Ruth.Maureenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13290283101378474845noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4732202925039933709.post-89403157616983738942011-06-30T11:25:20.927+02:002011-06-30T11:25:20.927+02:00There comes a point when a person just has to rest...There comes a point when a person just has to rest from this kind of digging, with so much self mutilation. Does God resist this kind of effort, scattering himself out of 'impatience', knowing as he does that he gets released in the effortless rain? The tree stands and receives it.<br /><br />From yesterday's post . . . <i>Mine is the intrinsic slowness of the tree that embraces its growth and its blooming. Yes, I have a bit of its admirable patience. I had to train myself in it from the moment I understood the secret slowness that engenders and distills any work of art.</i>Ruthhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14204074161539605133noreply@blogger.com