Saturday, March 28, 2020

"Let everything happen to you"

If you saw Jo-Jo Rabbit, you might remember these lines from Rainer Maria Rilke at the end.
I accidentally ran across the whole poem (looking for something about God & night to post on the store's FB).
“Go to the Limits of Your Longing”

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.

Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
Rainer Maria Rilke, "Book of Hours", I 59 (pub. 1905)

Hm. What do I think of Rilke?
I guess he's in the same category as Mahler for me--someone I loved in my twenties.

I do still like that romanticism. I do. 
But... I don't find that hold-your-breath-at-your-preciousness
as attractive--or as necessary--as I did when I was young.

Being old, I don't have to "let" everything happen to me--it just does. I know that's not what's meant, but still... When I was a teenager, I was eager to experience grief.
At this age, I'd be happy to hand it back.

Is there a return counter?

I add in more ridiculousness now, facing the seriousness of life. 

5 comments:

  1. thank you.
    i don't know what is more heartbreaking.
    rilke's poem — or your experience of being old.
    but of course you are right...
    you don't know me. i am just an occasional lurker on your blog :)
    big hug
    ---
    johannes

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  2. JOHANNES: Thank you for writing!
    But, oh, dear, I didn't put that well is my experience of being old comes across as heartbreaking.
    To me, being old(er) brings liberation more than heartbreak--it's added the champagne of ridiculousness into the wet cement of seriousness I felt as a young person.

    I know that's not how everyone would read this Rilke!

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  3. P.S. Well, yes... but I do see I wrote that I have more than enough grief, so I guess that's a bit heartbreaking.
    But grief--how would a person grow old without it?

    And, would I really return it?
    No. It's not the grief I want gone, it's the people I want back.

    So, yeah, that is a bit heartbreaking.

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  4. yes i know more or less exactly what you mean. when i was a teenager i really wanted to feel something ... that was real, love, grief, heartbreak, bring it on, i thought — and life delivered ... now (62) i am still licking my wounds but i wouldn't give any of it back �� best wishes ... johannes

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  5. Thanks for stopping back, Johannes!
    (Do you blog?)
    I'm glad you know what I mean--that's it exactly: as a teenager I thought, Bring it on.

    No, I wouldn't give it back... not for my sake. I wish I could remove some of the suffering of others I've witnessed though.
    But it doesn't work that way, of course.

    ReplyDelete