"THE LIMITS OF YOUR LONGING," Rainer Maria Rilke

 

GO TO THE LIMITS OF YOUR LONGING

                                    by Rainer Maria Rilke

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.

                                                                            published 1905 

 

Not many poets take on the persona of God, but Rilke does.  German poet Rainer Maria Rilke assumes the divine voice of God as he imagines what is said to each of us when God launches us into being.  The poem is written in the imperative.  Do this, do that.  "Go to the limits of your longing."  "Flare up like a flame." "Let everything happen to you."  "[K]eep going."

Since God is speaking to us, we are invited to be listeners.  As readers, we are invited to wonder, is this the message I received as I moved into this world?  Is this the message my descendants will receive?  What does it mean?

We can see that this poem is not tricky.   Profound, hopeful, conversational, but not tricky.  Each reader of a poem makes their own picture.  What you receive from this poem is as valid as what I or anyone else receives.  

The picture I see is God sending someone--me or you, our child or grandchild, or someone years' hence, one of our descendants--out of the void and into the world.  Maybe the void is our mothers' wombs.  Maybe long before that, somewhere in the universe of galaxies.  God walks with us to where life begins (the country nearby "they call life") and tells we will know it by its seriousness.  Interesting, no? The poet's God sees Life as Serious and we can't go back.

But seriousness is not a bad thing.  Surely life is not frivolous.  All our thoughts, emotions, the love we give and receive, the losses we face.  Yes, life is serious.  Yes there is both beauty and terror and no feeling is final.  God tells us, "Embody me."  Not a casual thing at all.  To embody God is profound.  

At the same time, there is great feeling in life.  We soar sometimes, we reach heights we didn't envision.  God tells us to go to the limits of our longing, flare up like a flame.  This might sound exciting, or it might sound fearful.  How will we find the limits or our longing?  Might that take a lifetime?  Surely with God's help we can find what we long for.  We are told to keep God close, "Don't let yourself lose me."  If this frightens us, God offers to take our hand.  The last words we hear, dimly, are "Give me your hand." 

What I have written is the explication of a poem. There is no magic in that.  Many can explicate poems.  The magic, or miracle, is that Rilke said all of this in 10 lines.  He spoke as the Divine, giving us hope about the terrors we might encounter, reminding us that God walks with us walk hand-in-hand from the moment He sends us into the world.  No need to read this explication ever again.  But the poem?  It's worth rereading, perhaps learning by heart.  That way we will remember to make big shadows for God to move in.  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE SIMPLEST JOYS

 

The simplest joys are often our surroundings.   Our homes filled with things we love, our gardens, the views out our windows, the walks we take. If we can share with someone we love, we are even happier. This week I got to do some of that: share a beach week with a grandson)  Favorite people, favorite places.  

After he left, not to return till semester break, I sat on the deck telling the sky how I felt. It's said that we all have inner dialogues.  About a quarter of us also talk out loud to ourselves. How many talk to the sky or a tree I have no idea.  Certainly we talk to our pets. But this was a week to be drawn to the sky, the ever-present, ever-changing sky.  

As always, the big sky was telling the ocean what to do, "Change to blue now, now gray. . . . Waves, watch the moon."   Yesterday on the top deck listening to the waves, I saw the clouds on my left striated in long horizontal lines; on my right they were puckered.  Straight ahead they puffed up in irregular shapes along the horizon.  There can't be anything finer to look at.  And this is every day out of each of our back doors.  We can be anywhere and find the sky.

Unlike a museum or city, the sea or the mountains or a lake, we don't have to travel, plan ahead, or spend a cent.  We can always find a patch of blue. From a rooftop, on a plane trip, at the ocean, or just out the window between our curtains. It's one of those things we too often take for granted I suspect, the magnificent undulating dome above our heads as far as we can see or imagine. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be an astronomer or atmospheric scientist and give daily attention to the sky?

I know I often mention gratitude, or thankfulness, but even curiosity is enough.  All we need do is give ourselves to moments of observation.  Then more moments.  Then more.  The simplest of joys.  

                            In peace, Nina Naomi    

 

 

 

GRATITUDE FOR A GOOD WEEK

  The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song, I give thanks to him.  Psalm 28:7

 

Someone explained the difference between gratitude and thankfulness.  Gratitude is what you feel when you are sick and a friend brings you soup and straightens your house.  Thankfulness is a way of looking at the world and consciously noticing things that make you feel thankful, even in dark times.  The concepts are interlinked. 

Times are dark in America.  Our democracy, science, health and economy are all under threat.   For most of us, our eyes are wide open to this.  We spend time learning to navigate the darkness.  We wrestle with whether we're doing enough.  We decide how much time to give to activism, how much to the suffering of others, how much to our own well-being and families. And yet, I haven't met anyone who is broken, and not because they are ignoring the challenge we face.  

People keep rising up.  They, we, continue with an attitude of thankfulness; we are consistently grateful, sometimes for what others are doing, sometimes for small pluses in our own lives.  Speaking only for myself, the peace of God that I feel at this scary time in our country, really does pass all understanding.  It is beyond rhyme or reason that while knowing the risks to medical research, fairness, minorities, refugees and beyond from this administration, hope and trust don't falter and wonderful things happen everyday. 

Maybe the Lord is my strength and shield and maybe yours too.  Maybe there is only one God with different names and different traditions, giving us the strength to endure and fight injustice.  Maybe God is there for those who don't believe as well as those who do, because the love of God is there for all.  

Sometimes you have a really good week and this was one for me.  Nothing that special except that a grandson came to the beach where we are to spend some time with us before he heads off, back to university.  He will be far from North Carolina, in Scotland.  Like the rest of the family, we will miss him.  We're one of  millions of families who may not see their college-age kids 'till Thanksgiving or Christmas.  With all that's going on in the world, this is not a big thing, a first-world problem that doesn't involve starvation or deportation or any physical hardship at all.

Or, one might say, with all that's going on in the world, this is a big thing--to have a good week.  To have time with family anywhere, but especially this past week with Hurricane Erin offshore causing resoundingly loud waves and spray that settles in your hair and on your body. 

And if we were to guess, I bet all of us had some good happen this week.  Not that we ignore the plight of many in our country, but that we carry an attitude of thankfulness and look for and recognize for what we can be grateful.  I was grateful for a wild and majestic ocean and a hurricane that went back out to sea without touching down anywhere.   We were grateful to walk down to the sittum and join locals gathered to watch the waves, sharing their memories of other storms and hurricanes.  In this mostly red corner of our state there lives a beach community that is less divided than connected.  All are drawn to the sea, that very sea created on the Third Day according to Genesis. 

A red flag warns of danger and not just at sea.  We can be grateful for warnings, whether they prompt us to care for our democracy or for our safety on shore.  May the Lord be our strength and our shield, and that forever.  AMEN     

 Nina Naomi

 

 

THE TENDERNESS OF LISTENING

  

Are you sometimes doing too many things you don't want to do?  Too much time with the news, managing the household, doing errands, sitting in traffic?  Today I spent an hour sorting through a financial issue and I'm lucky it didn't take longer.  We've never been masters of our time.  And that doesn't even count work.  Or, to whine a bit more, it doesn't count the state of American politics or, even bigger, the health of our family and friends.  I wonder if you need help as often as I do.   

One way to face hard times is to rely on our faith.  I mention that first because sometimes we may only remember to let God enfold us when all else has failed.  We forget that faith is not just for when one of us is at the hospice door.  I usually remember to give my fears to God somewhere later along the worry continuum than first.  To ask God to help, save, comfort and defend whoever I am worried about, including me. 

 I also have a book that teaches mindfulness-based compassionate living.  Its called A Book That Takes Its Time, An Unhurried Adventure in Creative Mindfulness (flowmagazine.com; Workman.com), but there are many.  Mine is the kind of mindfulness workbook you can dip into and it seems to respond to whatever mood you bring to it.  If you happen to be sad, as I have been from time to time lately, it tends to help.  Knowing why you're sad or anxious or whatever emotion needs your attention, can mitigate those feelings, let them pass as feelings always do.  

The last chapter in this thoughtful book is called "Time to be Kind."  Most of my marginalia is in this chapter, jottings and underlines.  Who can't learn more about when and how to be kinder?  One person who needs kindness is ourself.  Experts say that more compassion, both for self and others, makes us worry less and makes us happier.  Compassion isn't judgment; maybe it's the opposite.  But for sure it's listening.  If we're not sleeping well or can't concentrate, we might need an emotional rebalance.  We might need to make our world smaller (stay home, garden and cook, be tender . . . ) or larger (spend more time with others who also need help, tell a friend how we're feeling, be tender . . . ).  Only listening to our bodies will let us know which.  Most of us are strong enough not only to listen to ourselves, but also give this gift to someone else.

We know that life is a balance of highs and lows, joys and griefs.  We have ourselves and each-other.  We  have today.  We have a body to temporarily house our soul which is ever-lasting. We have God and our faith.  This isn't scarcity, this is abundance. 

There's a mantra that to me goes well with my faith (or yours or none).  I don't know if I read it or thought of it myself, but it seems to complement our quest to live with kindness and compassion.   Just words to bring us back from the anxiety that floats in, under and around us these days.  The mantra is Seek, Believe, Trust, Hope.  It's a reminder to do just that:  seek (breathe), believe (breathe), trust(breathe), hope (breathe). 

Thank you for listening.  

Nina Naomi 

 

 

 

 

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? WHERE IS YOUR JOY?

   

Pine Knoll Shores, NC

    We are at the beach again, which having been born and raised in the land-locked Midwest, might be our favorite place.  How does that work for you?  Is your favorite place where you were born and raised, or someplace else?  Maybe you live in your favorite place now.  How nice is that?  In a way I do too.  My home in the woods with the hawks and geese, lizards and frogs, deer and coyote, certainly could be the best place for me to wake up.  

    I read the most interesting article in my favorite magazine, The Simple Things, a UK publication.  In a feature called Rare and Magical Sights, the writer noted her joy in spying a lizard.  I love lizards too, and box turtles, but  especially this time of year lizards are almost as common as pairs of Cardinals, nothing rare about them.  On any deck, patio or rock lizards lie in any spot of sunshine, necks outstretched toward the warmth.  If they show up indoors, we gently catch them to relocate outside.  Blue-tailed lizards, anole lizards that change from vibrant green to brown, male broadhead skinks with orange-red heads.  We see these sunning or skittering every day as soon as the weather grows warm.  

    That so interests me about the UK:  I had no idea that lizards were rare there.  But then, our friends from Santa Barbara, California, were taken with our squirrels.  That's not a thing with us; there are far too many squirrels where we live.  Yes they're playful and fun, but they also dig up my pot plants looking for the hickory nut they just buried yesterday.  

Home

     

Still, I love it all, don't you?  Never ever would I have a complaint about living in a woods.  Trees fall, creeks flood and the morning sun in the bedroom windows is still a gift.  But here too, here at the coast.  

    The North Carolina beaches are not crowded.  Some days  in July the sand is hot as coals, but yet the water buoys and lifts, literally, with waves to ride and hollows to float in.  May through October, volunteers walk the early morning sand looking for sea turtle crawls that indicate a nest has been laid.  The nests are then marked with yellow tape to protect these endangered reptiles.  We are careful to turn off lights at dark so as not to confuse them.  Volunteers continue to keep watch over the nests in case the hatchlings need help to make their way to the water.  Most of our hatchlings are loggerheads.  

    This is what we must all do, isn't it--find joy.  Here in America there is all kinds of hell going on.  In response, my blue-collar town holds demonstrations, occupies bridges, cares for our immigrant community members, supports public television and National Public Radio.  Duke University is our biggest employer and we support free speech on campus and medical research.   And elsewhere in the world.  Maybe like me, you are grieved each day when Palestinians in Gaza are killed as they wait for their food donations to arrive.  Children there are starving, grown-ups too.  We've almost forgotten about Ukraine, which I do not want to do.  People suffering at least deserve to be seen.  The Ukrainians are fighting for all  of western civilization.  

    All of this makes finding joy in our day-to-day more important.  We know the terms lifespan and time-span, but joy-span is a concept too, the concept of living your life, however long or short, with joy.  It's not something to put on your To-Do list, but it is something to recognize and accept when it comes our way.  City parks, forest-bathing, vacations at the beach or in the mountains, staycations, reading a book or taking a trip, calling a friend, rescuing a turtle or lizard or friend-in-need or stranger-at-risk . . . .   

    It's all God-pleasing I think.  To take care of endangered loggerhead turtles, to help our fellow humans who are without homes or even country.   I'd like to be able to answer the question "What are you doing?" with, "I'm doing the best that I can." 

                                     In peace and joy, Nina Naomi

 

 

 

MORE ORDINARY DAYS PLEASE

    Just when I was thinking about glimmers and planning a swim, Tropical Storm Chantal hit North Carolina.  With no warning, the afternoon sky turned black and rain poured down in sheets, all evening, all night and all the next day.  Power went out and we could barely see the creek in our side yard turning into a river as it does when it floods.  Since we live in the woods, trees began tossing their dead branches here and there.  One live branch cracked just over our boardwalk and now (still) blocks access to the front door and, more importantly for the birds, their feeder. No tragedies at our house, just darkness, close air and mud rolling down the hill onto every surface.  Water sloshed against the patio doors and the old '70s pool overflowed its coping and turned brown from debris.  

    We sweltered for two days, which given what has happened elsewhere, is nothing to complain about.  As our well runs by an electric pump we had not a drop of water to flush or brush.  Just two hot sweaty days worrying about what was spoiling in our refrigerator.  It made me think about people with less and what it's like to summer without air-conditioning or fresh water.  

    I remember as a child in the Midwest relying on fans and sprinklers.  My mom would pull the shades against the afternoon sun and make cold suppers.  We didn't use the stove or oven for weeks on end.  We had a below-ground basement that must have been 10 degrees cooler and we would move games and chores down there with the skimpiest of clothes on.  The unforgiving concrete floor left bruises, but we played away.  My father hung a swing from the floor joists and made me a foldable walk-in playhouse with real glass windows.  He set up a plywood table on a couple of sawhorses for our Lincoln Logs and toy cars.  My mother would hose down the floor which made it slippery as well as hard, but never mind.  Anything to cool off.

    Now the power is back and yard cleanup has begun.  Collections are being taken at church for the parishioners whose houses flooded and cars floated away down the Eno River.  A lot of Durham is low-lying.  The sun is out and my outdoor plants seem happy.  Yesterday a deer came right up on the back patio not 2 feet from the glass and I couldn't figure out why; there's plenty to eat in the forest and meadow.  Just now a lizard was pumping and peeking in, but that's no problem.  Someone took advantage of the chaos and robbed a neighbor's car, she just called and told me.  They had forgotten to lock it.  But otherwise, back to normal.

    I love ordinary days, don't you?   Just days when you do what needs to be done without working in the shadow of tragedy.   That may be setting the bar low, but I think not.  In Texas the flooding killed hundreds, including girls at a riverside camp.  Everywhere someone is at death's door waiting for news.  If it's not us this time, that's a blessing to be counted.  

So this sunny afternoon with power and nothing on my schedule counts as good news and a day to be savored.   I hope you have one of these, if not today, in your near future.  A time to reminisce--as I've been doing about those sweltering St. Louis childhood summers--to read or write or play, a time for one of those glimmers I wrote about the other day.            

From me to you in peace, Nina Naomi

 

 

 

 

    

     

 

   

A VERY GOOD DAY

  

Farmers' Market Bounty

I wish everyone who reads this would tell me about their good summer day.  This week my stats show readers in Brazil, Argentina, Vietnam, the US and Ecuador.   I have no idea what a summer day in Brazil is like.  My only experience is that my niece and her mom went to Rio for a Taylor Swift concert.  Two New Jersey residents of Chinese-American-Hawaiian heritage had the time of their lives. Now my niece begins her sophomore year at NC State.  She will be only 20 minutes down the road.  How wonderful life is.  She and my North Carolina granddaughter are besties.  

    Argentina I know because one of my good friends is from there; some years ago she decided that I would be her "auntie."  I've been loving that role.  It means, she says, that I am always glad to see her.  Well, how easy is that?  I love her.  Vietnam is another story.  I lived through the Vietnam war.  My daughter's best friend, a Vietnamese refugee, was Miss Teen South Carolina.  It's a small world.  

     So if you are reading this and are from the US, where most readers are, please tell us about your summer day.  If from somewhere else, please tell us too.  My day was both ordinary and extraordinary.  Ordinary because we went to the Farmer's Market and got beautiful tomatoes for gazpacho.  Then went swimming.  Extraordinary because how good everything felt.  I've been so worried about our country.  But I've also decided that the felon at it's helm will not ruin my year.  I will do what I can, contribute, march, recruit.  But my mind remains my own.  It is free to roam and enjoy all there that makes life good.  A summer promise to myself.  

    Sending everyone good wishes.  Nina Naomi