I am currently reading Letters To A Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. The book is a series of ten letters, written from 1903 to 1908, and addressed to a young admirer of Rilke’s work. [Elsewhere in Bookpuddle I have spoken about my own admiration of Rilke.] Now, at midpoint of the book, I am already convinced that this small and deceptively simple tome contains some of the most amazing insights I have ever read on the topic of what it means to live the creative life. To be an artist. To do art.
Passages like the following, (and there are many just like it) leave me speechless and numb (in a good way):
“All things consist of carrying to term and then giving birth. To allow the completion of every impression, every germ of a feeling deep within, in darkness, beyond words, in the realm of instinct unattainable by logic, to await humbly and patiently the hour of the descent of a new clarity; that alone is to live one’s art, in the realm of understanding as in that of creativity.”
Look at the emphasis on ineffability, everywhere there. The respect for the limitation of language. The “beyond words-ness” of it all. Not to digress too far from his original thought here, but I cannot help but speculate what it might mean for the world of FAITH or of RELIGION, if we just substitute either of those words into the above, where the word ART appears.
Have a great Wednesday!
2 comments:
I read this long ago. I think I will have to read it again; you've reminded me how god it is. :)
It is truly a remarkable book, Stefanie. If you can find it, re-read it.
It is brimming with wisdom.
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