Change

Want the change. Be inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of the body as it turns away.

What locks itself in sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.

Pour yourself like a fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.

Every happiness is the child of separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming a laurel,
dares you to become the wind.

March 1 selection from "A Year with Rilke" (Sonnets to Orpheus II, 12)

I love Rilke. Reading a snippet or poem of his every day has been an interesting exercise. I had a period last week when I forgot to read almost five days in a row. I was sick and busy, but I felt upset and slightly ashamed when I realized it. I've made a renewed effort over the past few days to make sure I read them on time. It's sometimes dull, because I'll go days without anything really speaking to me. Then, all of a sudden, I will read a poem and think, "I really, really needed to read that today."

That's what happened today. That's why I push myself to keep reading, day after day when it seems easier not to commit to something extra. I love it when Rilke describes change as a flame, that there is something burning and effervescent about change, even when it seems to be mere drudgery or supreme discomfort. "Every happiness is the child of separation/it did not think it could survive."
How often I need to be reminded of that.