here i am once again staring into this machine, postponing sleep, pretending that some magical "thing" will happen and i won't have to face the dream world alone tonight.
then, once again, tomorrow i will hang on to every last second of sleep, postponing the day, hoping that the same magical "thing" will happen and i won't have to face the waking life alone.
someone very dear once pointed out that i "don't transition well". without fail every night passes and every day comes, and yet i still fight each passing time with such stubborn vigor.
perhaps this struggle to linger in one space as time moves on contributes to the "alone".
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
late night lovers
I miss late nights.
People seem to become more honest and uninhibited in the wee hours of the morning.
Perhaps it's the vulnerability that approaches as darkness and sleep takes hold, or the disappearance of pressures to be productive as the day comes to an end. Whatever it is, after a certain point the walls diminish and we become rawer, greater, more pure versions of ourselves.
Those late nights are the moments I fall in love. I see peoples' true beauty in these moments. Their imperfections become endearing; their failings more human. In dark, late nights nothing exists but the beautiful glow of energy between us all. In these moments I want no more than to be a lover to this beautiful person wearing nothing but their soul.
I find myself stupidly staring into this computer screen late at night, reading journals and statuses, searching for cold mechanical glimpses of this late-night honesty and vulnerability; searching for companionship. Raw, honest companionship.
I am convinced solitude can drive a person mad. But what I am not convinced is whether this madness leads to blindness or if it removes the blindfold we all wear during the daylight.
People seem to become more honest and uninhibited in the wee hours of the morning.
Perhaps it's the vulnerability that approaches as darkness and sleep takes hold, or the disappearance of pressures to be productive as the day comes to an end. Whatever it is, after a certain point the walls diminish and we become rawer, greater, more pure versions of ourselves.
Those late nights are the moments I fall in love. I see peoples' true beauty in these moments. Their imperfections become endearing; their failings more human. In dark, late nights nothing exists but the beautiful glow of energy between us all. In these moments I want no more than to be a lover to this beautiful person wearing nothing but their soul.
I find myself stupidly staring into this computer screen late at night, reading journals and statuses, searching for cold mechanical glimpses of this late-night honesty and vulnerability; searching for companionship. Raw, honest companionship.
I am convinced solitude can drive a person mad. But what I am not convinced is whether this madness leads to blindness or if it removes the blindfold we all wear during the daylight.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Four
Excerpts from Rilke, Letters to Young Poet, Four
Worpswede, near Bremen
July 16, 1903
"My dear Mr. Kappus: I have left a letter from you unanswered for a long time; not because I had forgotten it - on the contrary: it is the kind that one reads again when one finds it among other letters, and I recognize you in it as if you were very near. It is your letter of May second, and I am sure you remember it. As I read it now, in the great silence of these distances, I am touched by your beautiful anxiety about life, even more than I was in Paris, where everything echos and fades way differently because of the excessive noise that makes Things tremble. Here, where I am surrounded by an enormous landscape, which the winds move across as they come from the seas, here I feel that there is no one anywhere who can answer for you those questions and feelings which, in their depths, have a life of their own; for even the most articulate people are unable to help, since what words point to is so very delicate, is almost unsayable. But even so, I think that you will not have to remain without a solution if you trust in Things that are like the ones my eyes are now resting upon. If you trust in Nature, in what is simple in Nature, in the small Things that hardly anyone sees and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasureable; if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more reconciling, not in your conscious mind perhaps, which stays behind, astonished, but in your innermost awareness, awakeness, and knowledge. You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within you the possibility of creating and forming, as an especially blessed and pure way of living; train yourself for that - but take whatever comes, with great trust, and as long as it comes out of your will, out of some need of your innermost self, then take it upon yourself, and don't hate anything.
"...But everything that may someday be possible for many people, the solitary man can now, already, prepare and build with his own hands, which make fewer mistakes. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy you can't take anyone away with you, and be gentile with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith and joy, which they couldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feelings of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust."
Worpswede, near Bremen
July 16, 1903
"My dear Mr. Kappus: I have left a letter from you unanswered for a long time; not because I had forgotten it - on the contrary: it is the kind that one reads again when one finds it among other letters, and I recognize you in it as if you were very near. It is your letter of May second, and I am sure you remember it. As I read it now, in the great silence of these distances, I am touched by your beautiful anxiety about life, even more than I was in Paris, where everything echos and fades way differently because of the excessive noise that makes Things tremble. Here, where I am surrounded by an enormous landscape, which the winds move across as they come from the seas, here I feel that there is no one anywhere who can answer for you those questions and feelings which, in their depths, have a life of their own; for even the most articulate people are unable to help, since what words point to is so very delicate, is almost unsayable. But even so, I think that you will not have to remain without a solution if you trust in Things that are like the ones my eyes are now resting upon. If you trust in Nature, in what is simple in Nature, in the small Things that hardly anyone sees and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasureable; if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more reconciling, not in your conscious mind perhaps, which stays behind, astonished, but in your innermost awareness, awakeness, and knowledge. You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Perhaps you do carry within you the possibility of creating and forming, as an especially blessed and pure way of living; train yourself for that - but take whatever comes, with great trust, and as long as it comes out of your will, out of some need of your innermost self, then take it upon yourself, and don't hate anything.
"...But everything that may someday be possible for many people, the solitary man can now, already, prepare and build with his own hands, which make fewer mistakes. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy you can't take anyone away with you, and be gentile with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith and joy, which they couldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feelings of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust."
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