Over the years, one of the things that I try very hard to do is to live into the questions in my life. I was inspired by a card I had received from a long time, and still very dear friend of mine, that had this quote by Rainer Maria Rilke on the front:
"Be patient to all that is unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms, like books written in a foreign language. Do not strive to uncover the answers: they can not be given to you because you have not been able to live them. And what matters is to live everything. Live the questions for now.
Perhaps then you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer one distant day in the future."
-Rainer Maria Rilke
I began to use this approach in my life. It hasn't always easy for an often over-anxious worrier, but it works.
Lately, with the pandemic and much longer periods of solitude than I'm used to; I found myself having trouble with my days.
Remembering Rilke and how well living into the questions worked; I decided to try to use a similar technique to live into my days and live into my life.
It reminds me a lot of being present, living in the now, and paying attention to the natural flow to the universe and the how and where I fit.
Yesterday was one of those "living into my day" days.
As I was getting things done and attacking stateside problems, I wanted to treat myself. My hot off the press new Sebastian Faulks book, Snow Country, had arrived.
It was a pretty day.
I deserved a break.
So, I loaded myself up with my book, something to sit on, my favorite Thiriet ice cream bar, and headed down to hang out on the river for a bit.
I noticed that our fallen tree was in the same spot and the water from the lavoir and beyond, was pulsing into the river water, making waves and beautiful concentric circles.
The landing stones for the slip were beautiful as usual, but reminded me of warmer times...times with friends in the water; screaming at speeding boaters and water skiers, picnic lunches; water aerobics in the river on the rocks with Marina; wine; algae art; and, tiny fish all over my bare feet on the algae covered stone. Ah, the amazing memories!
Yesterday, I talked to the few tiny fish who were there. My ice cream bar was harder to eat than usual. It had melted some in its wrapper while I carried it down to the river in the pocket of my dress. The moving water music and the peace of place was a balm for the craziness of these times.
I headed back up after a bit, knowing I still had insurance people to track down in New Orleans. They all make me laugh when they thank me for how patient I have been.
I think the living into the days and life are working too!
Happy Saturday!
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