The first time I heard a poem by Austrian poet, Rainer Maria Rilke, it was love at first sound. The poem was an excerpt from Rilke’s Book Of Hours. I affectionately refer to this poem as “Orbits”. Written in his native tongue, the orbits in the poem have been more often translated as “widening circles”, but I’m still a fan of the previous. It goes like this:
I LIVE MY LIFE IN GROWING ORBITS
WHICH MOVE OUT OVER THE THINGS OF THE WORLD.
PERHAPS I CAN NEVER ACHIEVE THE LAST,
BUT THAT WILL BE MY ATTEMPT.
I AM CIRCLING AROUND GOD, AROUND THE ANCIENT TOWER,
AND I HAVE BEEN CIRCLING FOR A THOUSAND YEARS,
AND I STILL DON’T KNOW IF I AM A FALCON, OR A STORM
OR A GREAT SONG.
The idea that our lives can be falcon, storms, or great songs deeply intrigues me. Sometimes I feel more like a falcon – gliding through my life gracefully. Other times are more tumultuous and filled with change, like storms. A great song? Wow. Not only a song but a great one feels like a stretch. What stayed with me after that first listen, was the feeling I got in my body when the poem was read aloud. I “felt” the energy of these orbiters in my body as an invitation to live more fully and with more of what Rick Hanson calls “don’t know mind”. If Rilke still didn’t know, why should I?
Since that first exposure to Rilke, I’ve continued to be inspired by his imagery and metaphor, usually during times of challenge. I’ve read translations by Joanna Macy, Stephen Mitchell, and Robert Bly. I’ve designed yoga classes around Rilke’s poetry incorporating breath, mudras, and postures to of his powerful metaphors.
The first night in my apartment, as a single divorced woman in a new city, I once again turned to Rilke and his poem Sunset, inspired by it’s closing stanza.
…. leaving you your own life,
timid and standing high and growing,
so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you,
and the next, a star.
Once again I sat juxtaposed between two powerful images that both felt true. My life did feel like a stone. Heavy and unknown. Yet, it also felt like a star. Filled with possibilities.
So it’s no surprise to me, or to my students, that it was Rilke I chose to read this week after an election that felt impossible to understand. I’m certainly no political pundit. Many would profile me as a liberal democrat. Was I disappointed in the outcome? Yes. Am I fearful for the future of the United States of America. Yes. Do I believe that women’s rights have taken a big step backward into a past where governments decided the fate of the unborn? Yes. But the darkness in my soul was deeper. It felt like a loss of hope. I felt defeated, unheard, and uninspired. Then I picked up Rilke and turned to this poem. He had me with the first two lines.
QUIET FRIEND WHO HAS COME SO FAR,
FEEL HOW YOUR BREATHING MAKES MORE SPACE AROUND YOU.
LET THIS DARKNESS BE A BELL TOWER
AND YOU THE BELL. AS YOU RING,
WHAT BATTERS YOU BECOMES YOUR STRENGTH.
MOVE BACK AND FORTH INTO THE CHANGE.
WHAT IS IT LIKE, SUCH INTENSITY OF PAIN?
IF THE DRINK IS BITTER, TURN YOURSELF TO WINE.
IN THIS UNCONTAINABLE NIGHT,
BE THE MYSTERY AT THE CROSSROADS OF YOUR SENSES,
THE MEANING DISCOVERED THERE.
AND IF THE WORLD HAS CEASED TO HEAR YOU,
SAY TO THE SILENT EARTH: I FLOW.
TO THE RUSHING WATER, SPEAK: I AM.
Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
“Feel how your breathing makes more space around you?” Yes. I could feel that. But I still didn’t feel like ringing. Not yet. “Be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses.” As a mindfulness teacher I know that the senses are the doorway to the present moment and it was clear from my mind chatter that I was already far into a distant future where my grandchildren were living in a dystopian mess.
As my senses drew me back into the Now, I felt a little more at peace. So I read the poem again. “Let this darkness be a bell tower, and you the bell.” It was starting to sink in…. slowly Now is the time for me to use my voice. To take action. To protect the vulnerable and speak my truth about the issues from transgender rights to the environment. Now is the time for me to get up off my meditation cushion and volunteer to help immigrants understand the laws and their rights, to write my congress men and women and tell them that we need more EV chargers along major highways so I can drive around the state without polluting the environment. It’s easy to feel hopeless and stuck. It’s harder to stand up and create change, one breath at a time. So I’m starting now with this post.
The shakeup caused by this election isn’t a catastrophe. It’s a call to action for both sides. If half the country votes for a candidate, we can’t stick our heads in the sand. EVERYONE is being called to lead with integrity toward a better future. EVERYONE is being called to listen and to share, including our legislators. EVERYONE is challenged to be peaceful and respectful. To ask questions and explore places that might feel scary or uncomfortable. Only then will the “meaning discovered there” be real and true, and not some rhetoric we’ve been telling ourselves in our political bubble.
This poem comes from Rilke’s Sonnets to Orpheus. The myth of Orpheus is often interpreted to have two endings. One happy. One sad. How this one turns out is up to us.