Rilke's Terrible Angels

I was inspired tonight to read some Rilke. It has been a long time since I have dipped into this well, and man, is it a deep one.

Two quotes struck me as I was reading this evening. This is the first.

“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.” 
― Rainer Maria Rilke

I am laughing at myself as I try to write something about this quote. I have found that it is against my nature to elaborate on something so elegantly put. So I will leave it as it stands.

The other quote that struck me was this:

“For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terrorwhich we are barely able to endure, and it amazes us so,because it serenely disdains to destroy us.Every angel is terrible.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies

This is something that occurs to me again and again in life. At the times I feel most alive, I am struck with the power and awe of simply being here....of the incredible minute detail of this fantastic world...and the stunning fragility of each moment.

Some things may appear constant throughout our lives, but if we draw back and look at the flow and metamorphosis that is the experience of life, then the awful amazing beauty of this huge powerful force can be glimpsed. Then there is that understanding....that this force, which we are not just a part of, but we ARE, "serenely disdains to destroy us."

It really is terrible to consider, and at the same time I find, an endless wellspring of joy and light. There is a freedom that comes from the kind of perspective in both of these quotes. We are free to live, because as long as we are open to the present moment, not only will we be privy to the awe of the world around us, but all the trivial and momentous thoughts and changes and questions and doubts and fears that we live with in our heads each moment of each day...they become powerless. They dissolve like the meaningless smoke that they are. Now. Just be. ;)

Viva Italia!

    Well I am back home after my Italian adventure. It was a lovely trip, and just enough time to take in much of what I wanted to. The weather was beautiful, I got to spend some time in the sun at the beach, do a little shopping and exploration of the historic parts of the towns, and Sumo and I took a hike up into the hills among the terraced olive groves.

    The name of the area where I was is Cinque Terre. It is a protected area where for centuries the people there have farmed in a way that works directly in connection with the land. The vineyards and olive groves are cut into the terrain, making use of the natural curves in the land to preserve and collect rainfall.

    The views of the ocean are stunning. The color of the water is a bright aquamarine, and the rocky coastlines make a beautiful contrast to the soft color of the sea. I discovered that the area is famous also for the poets who have visited and been inspired by these views. The gulf around La Spezia is called the Gulf of Poets for this reason. The area further inland was favored by Monet, and he made many paintings around the ancient villages there. I did not get to see these, but maybe next time...

    For now, here are some of my photos!

Water and Stone

    Today I spent an entire day on the beach. I am in Italy, on the Northern coast. It is not exactly peak season here, so I pretty much had the place to myself.

    I had the plan to make some meditative art....inspired by the land artist Andy Goldsworthy. I took stock of my materials by wandering up and down the beach, taking in the color and the shape of the stones. There is a remarkable variation in the color and texture of the stones here. I can't help but stoop and pick up one after the other that catches my eye.

    Then I had some ideas. I had the thought first to re-create a piece that was made by Goldsworthy. A stone spiral. I spent the next while wandering up and down the beach looking specifically for grey stones with a white line running through them.

    Now, those of you who know me, I am not very good at moving slow. I tend to grab hold of things with a passion and run with it...eyes on the final goal from the very beginning. This was an exercise intended to slow me down. I had to keep reminding myself that there was nothing else to get to today, and if I did nothing but look for stones with a white line running through them, then perfect.

    As I looked, my mind became focused and I found that time released its pressure-hold on me and I gave myself to the moment. I found my stones and created my piece.

    I then had the idea to try my hand at rock stacking. I wanted to use the different colors to highlight my different stacks, so off I went to look for green, black, red, white and grey stones. When my piles were sufficient, I sat down and watched the waves. I was looking for a place to build. My intention was for the finished piece to be highlighted by the waves and close enough for the stones to remain wet from the water (highlighting their color). There was a sandy ridge that the waves just reached from time to time. I sat and counted how many waves touched this spot over a period of 10 minutes or so. I deemed it sufficient for my needs. I started to build.

   
    What was most surprisingly wonderful about this experience was how impermanent it was. Time and time again a wave would come that was just strong enough to topple the structure. I rebuilt. I started the next piece, a wave comes and topples the first. I rebuilt. Each time I rebuilt I learned more about the way to set the stones so that they were stronger for the next time. At one point, I had 4 towers built.

    I started on my fifth and a huge wave came, washing me and all of the stones away like a giant hand. I laughed at this with such a lightness and joy. It was a beautiful thing to see, stones scattered, reclaimed by the forces that had formed them, and my human part, the beauty I had created with these so permanent things existed for a pure moment, then returned to its own form.

    I sat back and watched the waves claim the rest of my work, feeling as though in that very moment I had touched something far greater than myself.

A Day in the Sun

Yesterday was the first time I was able to work in the garden this year. The day was just warm enough, dry and sunny. I am a bit of a lazy gardener at times, and I tend to leave a lot at the end of the season. Last fall was not an exception. I had a lot going on in my life at the end of the summer, and I just could not manage to root out all of the weeds and clean up the mess that had taken root over the summer while I was away. So I left it.

I arrived at the garden and was greeted by a tangle of weeds and overgrown plants and dead forgotten plantings from last year. I did what I always do, and spent a little time taking stock and visiting with this little piece of earth that I had not seen for a whole season. As I wandered I made a mental note of the tasks that needed to be done, and made decisions about the best places to start. I took the time to “arrive” in my place.

Then I got to work. Clearing, pulling, piling the detritus from the last season and clearing space for the new growth. I always find this to be a cathartic experience. After a long winter away from the physical exertion of being out in the garden, I have renewed energy for the work, and a new perspective of the possibilities there. I love how you can attack the dead flower stems and the weeds with a great deal of aggression, removing all that is not green or growing to make way for those tiny green leaves and shoots that appear as you slowly hack away at the dead wood.

As I was working, I was struck by how easy it is to clear away those deeply rooted weeds. Had I tried to clear all of that away in the fall, it would have cost twice the effort, and I would have had to just repeat the process again in the spring to stimulate the new growth. Immediately I drew a parallel to the process of transformation and healing that I have experienced in the last few years.

I recognized as I was clearing this much-loved plot of land, that there is some “clean-up” work that can only be done after the softening effects of time have come into play. Everyone who is going through pain and upheaval hates the phrase “time will heal,” but it is so ubiquitous for the reason that it holds a very deep truth, one that proves itself over and over.

So I worked away in the sun and the crisp air of spring, thinking of all the things that now must fall away from my life, and taking peeks at the new green life that is strongly presenting itself through the rich earth. And I am grateful. For the time, for the new life, for a chance to exist in a new form. 

For a day in the sun with my hands in the dirt.

The Silence of Winter

It has been nearly a year since I created this blog. When I think back one year I recognize just how much evolution has happened in myself and my life during that relatively short time. A year ago I was on the tail end of a major life change, a reevaluation and reconstruction of my self, my life, my priorities, and my relationships. Now, a year later, I find myself in a very quiet place. The turmoil of deconstruction and reconstruction has subsided and I am drawn to quiet reflection.

Winter is always a time of quiet for me anyway. I am such a creature of the sun and the summer that I tend to hibernate this time of year, literally and figuratively. I have thought many times recently about making a new post here, but was unable to come up with a topic.

So now I reflect.

When I think about this last year as a whole, what stands out the most for me is a feeling of having shifted my perspective. For most of my life I have struggled or fought my way through to get where I needed to be, or to get what I thought I needed to be happy. I was always looking forward, to a goal, or to a time in the future where I believed I would have accomplished all I needed to be happy. I fought hard for these goals and ideals and accomplished a great deal.

But, when I reached my goal I never stopped. I kept pushing farther to the next goal because that one was obviously not enough. I was not happy or content. I still needed to fight for more.

When I think back through this last year I see myself for the most part still doing this desperate dog paddle, keeping my head barely above the surface. But I began to see that there was no magical point at which I would suddenly have all that I needed. I began to see that if I just slowed down and looked, those things were already there. I was just to blinded by the spray of my own desperate thrashing to see it. At some point in this year I realized that this constant struggle was no longer necessary. I paddled to the shore and climbed out.

The silence and stillness that I feel now is the quiet of rest. I am sitting on the shore and gazing out at the water and how far I've come.

I think it is very easy to be drawn into this kind of goal oriented movement, especially as a young person, and especially in our current culture. Things move so fast and there are so many unrealistic depictions of a "normal" or "happy" life out there that we never slow down long enough to evaluate what is normal or happy for us as individuals. Because it is very different for each person. I am glad to have had the experience of striving for goals and the feeling of accomplishment of reaching them. And now I am glad to stop. To rest and reflect in the stillness of winter.

Who knows what may bloom in the spring.

My New York Adventure

So I am wrapping up my beautiful autumnal 2 week holiday in New York. I have had a chance to see the beach on Long Island, travel all around the city and see the amazing sights, a whole day in Central Park with my lovely friend Mel, and spent lots of time with the family of good friends who invited me into their home these last 2 weeks.

This trip was significant for me because it is the first time I have chosen to visit a city for a holiday. Cities have not held much interest for me, and have in the past been the places I avoid rather than seek out. I dove right into experiencing NYC. Striking out on the 3rd day I was here, I took the hour-long train ride from West Islip where I was staying, to Penn Station. As I emerged from the station I was struck by the cacophony of sounds and smells and sights of one of the most vibrant centers of urban life in the world. I stood still, exactly like a little country girl, and just took it in. Then I set off, exhilarated and excited for my adventure.

I started by walking up to Times Square. At the end of the square there are bleachers set up, so that one can simply sit and watch the flood of humanity wash by. I sat there, reveling in the foreignness of it all.

New York has a particular energy, something I did not expect to feel, or to get so much enjoyment out of. I have always felt somewhat intimidated by large cities, but I felt myself reveling in the sensory experience of being there.

I took in a few more sights that day, then headed back to West Islip. I was glad to be able to travel by train. There is something about that time that creates a kind of natural transition, like bookends on the day. The next day I ventured forth again, this time to meet the family of a student of mine and take a bus tour through the city. Lots of fun! On another day I caught a Broadway show. I saw Annie, which was awesome since it was the first musical I was in as a child. It was a really great production, and inspiring. I love theater, as a participant and spectator :)

Then there was the day spent with my good friend Mel in Central Park. The whole day. It was obscenely beautiful that day, perfect skies, warm, sunshine, and not too many people about. We started out at Grand Central Station, where we got lots of yummy food for a picnic lunch, then just walked till dinner time. We then hopped a subway down to Little Italy and ate the most awesome Italian food, then got cannolis to bring home to the family.

One evening I decided to simply wander around Soho and see what I found. I was initially looking for a poetry cafe where I was going to listen to a reading, but I got lost and turned around and tired and hungry, so I ducked into a restaurant advertising locally produced food.....what an incredible discovery! I had a great dinner with all local food and drink, and super friendly service. A couple of guys from the next table (film crew workers) gave me great tips for where to go and what to see. I was really impressed with how open and friendly the people I met were. Even on the subway, when I asked for directions there was always someone there who would help me out. I like that in a city.

Now I am at the end of the trip. I feel filled with the experience of the city, and the warm companionship of friends. I am grateful for the journey, and everything encountered along the way.

Hello Autumn

It has been quite a while since I have written a post. Now the season is well on its way into autumn. This morning as I was walking Sumo in the forest, we could both see our breath, and the ground was littered with leaves from yesterday's rain. The air smells different too. There is a kind of sweetness in the air, like burnt sugar mixed with fertile earth.

For me, this season brings a time of quiet. I spend a lot of time at home and alone in nature. My love of cooking (and eating ;) is also revived. I laughed at myself the other day when I scrolled through my pictures and posts on Facebook, most of them in the last month or so have been about food! The small woodland creature in me is preparing for the long cold months. As I write, I have the last of my garden pumpkins baking for more pumpkin bread...

Since I returned from the US, my focus and energy has been directed at my work in the classroom. We have a much younger class this year. This happens naturally in a Montessori classroom, if you have a large group of 3rd graders move on, then those places are naturally filled at the lower end. Some of the new students we have look so tiny! I have had to teach in a very different way this year as a result, but that is one of the things that keeps my interest and love of teaching alive. Every year is different, and each day presents a unique challenge for me to learn something or grow in some way as a result of my interaction with these little people.

I have been playing more music lately as well. A friend of mine plays piano, and teaches the piano lessons at the school. For a year or so, we have been meeting from time to time to play piano and cello pieces together. Now the violin teacher is joining us, and we are talking about a possible concert in the next few months. It is good to reconnect with my music. I am also teaching cello lessons again!

My fall holidays are coming up in a week, and because I have to return to Cleveland for the last part of my Montessori Adolescent Training, I decided to make a holiday out of it. On the 10th of October I am flying to New York :) I have never been there, and I am super excited to see the city, and experience the culture and art that is there. Look for lots of pictures in another few weeks!

Overall, life is quiet right now.