My Life is Not…

on Feb 07 in Flotsum & Jetsam by

I was reminded in an email exchange with my daughter, Becca, of this Rilke poem describing an indescribable experience. I see it as what we would say (if we could say anything), when we become aware that our day-to-day life is too small to accomodate our Self.

My life is not this steeply sloping hour,
in which you see me hurrying.
Much stands behind me; I stand before it like a tree;
I am only one of my many mouths,
and at that, the one that will be still the soonest.
I am the rest between two notes, ?which are somehow always in discord
?because Death’s note wants to climb over- ?but in the dark interval,
reconciled, ?they stay there trembling. ?
And the song goes on, beautiful.

Translation by Robert Bly

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