- Finding Solitude in the City; or, John Keats’ first published Piece O Solitude (1816) O SOLITUDE! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings; – climb with me the steep, Nature’s Observatory – whence the dell, Its flowery slopes – its rivers crystal swell, May seem a span: let me thy vigils keep ‘Mongst boughs pavilioned; where […]
- Such Great Heights; Proceso Cruzado || Cross-Processed Let’s talk about writing, shall we? The time was autumn 2006, and I was packing up my bags after living in Portugal for a handful of years. As part of my cultural re-adjustment to America, I started a Blogspot. Writing on the blogger helped me process life, and started to help develop my writerly voice. […]
- It Does Not Force its Sap; Ripening Like the Tree I have been driving around Pasadena this last week with a vague echo in my mind of this excerpt. It’s uncanny how I’ve heard this phrase over and again: “She does not force her sap in summer.” It took me quite a while to realize that the phrase was from Rilke. It almost felt […]
- “Why don’t you think of him as the one who is coming” “Why don’t you think of him as the one who is coming, who has been approaching from all eternity, the one who will someday arrive, the ultimate fruit of a tree whose leaves we are? What keeps you from projecting his birth into the ages that are coming into existence, and living your life as […]
- Don’t Say It I won’t say it. I wouldn’t want it to become a useless burden. But I am thinking of how nice it would be if I could just put down a few words on these white spaces each day of this year. What a nice exercise for my little heart that would be. Twenty-four hour fitness […]
- I Remember Rilke in Rome, in 1999 I remember being nineteen and in Rome, studying art and history. I remember reading a little golden book by Rainer Maria Rilke called Letters to a Young Poet. Kristin was in grad school, and she was a fine mentor to me–giving me careful books to read and hope to push into heart. I remember these […]
- Passion Which Has Outgrown Us I have had a strange relationship with my guitar since leaving Portugal in the summer of ’06. I think we both needed a rest. This fact was accentuated by the airline crushing my Fender acoustic/electric in multiple places on the transcontinental ride home. They gave me a refund check. I used it to pay the […]
- So Unconcernedly Still and Wide These days I am finding that the Spirit talks to me just as loudly through old poets as through ancient Scripture. I wrote this down a few days before the New year, as I re-read Letters to a Young Poet. There is so much that we are waiting for, but there is no measuring with […]
- Sweet Baby Jesus A couple days past Christmas, and I’m still wondering about the baby’s birth. I’m wondering how I celebrated an entire holiday devoted to Jesus being born, and thought so little about him. Don’t get me wrong, Christmas is lovely. I love being with my family. I love giving and receiving little gifts. I love all […]
- Am I A Falcon, A Storm? Two bags packed, one to go. Last night I had three teenage girls in my living room to help me “sort my clothes.” To allow a sixteen-year old the right to advise you on what you ought pack in your suitcase is both enlightening and frightening. To have three of them is to invite a […]
- A Great Pregnancy; or, Christmas in July (From my all-time favourite little book, Letters to a Young Poet, letter 6) RomeDecember 23, 1903 My dear Mr. Kappus, I don’t want you to be without a greeting from me when Christmas comes and when you, in the midst of the holiday, are bearing your solitude more heavily than usual… Why don’t you think […]
- Go to the Limits of Your Longing I came across this old poem from long ago, the one that my mentor in college ripped from her Rilke’s Book of Hours, and mailed to me in a letter. I tacked it to every bedroom wall I lived within for many years. Now I’m unsure of where that tattered page could be. Yet, words […]