Thursday, February 13, 2020
Comfort from a poet
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. RILKE Letters
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Thoughts
In my work as a psychotherapist, I am fascinated by how often a persons’ stories interact with their natural landscape. How much of their ...
-
The leaves on the big backyard Oak have the first tinge of yellow and boom. My brain, friend and foe, presents a memory, me talking the two...
-
The rust pours out my fingers smearing orange, in cranky stripes across the page. Religiously trying to write, as the books say, wheneve...
-
I read somewhere that Benjamin Franklin took moon baths. He would sit naked in front of an open window on a moonlit night; bathing in the m...
No comments:
Post a Comment