dreaming, and doing

[chelidon]

This is a expansion of a comment I made recently in response to a friend's LJ post, brought to the surface in my mind by helping a dear old friend who this weekend has begun the process of moving into our house. She suddenly lost her partner, also one of my dearest and closest friends, to a motorcycle accident about 2 years ago, and then fought off cancer, and is still despite, or perhaps because of her experience, one of those people I know who is most heroically passionate about living life to the fullest. I think I may have written something on this general topic a number of months back, but writing this post now reminds me again of something I don't ever want to forget, no matter what else is going on in my life.

I have lost a fair number of friends and family, often young, often suddenly. One of the things it has taught me is that you have your memories of the past; you have this perfect golden moment; and you have hopes and dreams for the future. But that's all the future is -- hopes and dreams. There are absolutely no guarantees that any of them will come to pass, or that I will be here to see them if they do, or that any one of my friends and loved ones in particular will be either. That's one of the simple facts of embodied human existence.

That makes each now, and each moment with those I cherish, a precious gift for which I am unimaginably grateful.

My partner works as a medical professional in a hospital, doing a mixture of inpatient, outpatient, ICU and so on. Every week she has to counsel families through end-of-life issues, tell people they're dying, or that they now need to decide whether to insert a feeding tube or take some other invasive step for themselves or others (the alternative is to let go of life), or that one of their loved ones is irreversably brain-damaged and will likely never again be the person they knew and loved. Some of these people are old and had long lives, some are children, some had sudden accidents, some are 35-year-old stroke or cancer victims, and so on. You never know, and anyone who doesn't live each moment to its absolute highest potential is missing an opportunity which will never come again. Carpe Diem isn't just a trite platitude, it's the most sane response, IMO, to the reality of our embodied physicality.

I believe that it is important to choose to live life wildly and passionately, savor each moment like the precious drop of delight it is, soar into each ascent, dive into the depths as deep as one can stand, and love as deeply as one is capable of. To quote Rev. King, "A dream deferred is a dream denied." If you have a dream, a true, real dream, that goes beyond mere wish, fantasy, or casual want, then I can do no more than urge you to pursue it fully, vigorously, and with your entire heart, mind, and body. Win or lose, at least you will always be able to say you gave it your very finest and fullest shot, you held nothing back, you did your best. Then you need have few, if any regrets. Once you know what your dreams truly are, prove yourself worthy of them by orienting your life around making them manifest in the world. And do it now. Because now is all you truly have.

-------
Du siehst, ich will viel

You see, I want a lot.
Maybe I want it all:
the darkness of each endless fall,
the shimmering light of each ascent.

So many are alive who don't seem to care.
Casual, easy, they move in the world
as though untouched.

But you take pleasure in the faces
of those who know they thirst.
You cherish those
who grip you for survival.

You are not dead yet, it's not too late
to open your depths by plunging into them
and drink in the life
that reveals itself quietly there.
--Rilke (trans. Barrows/Macy)

Comments

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Rilke is one of my most beloved poets -- so full of life, and truth. The Barrows/Macy translations (e.g., Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God) can be seriously clunky, compared to say, Robert Bly or Stephen Mitchell, but a few of the Barrows/Macy translations pick up nuances the others miss.

[anthologie.livejournal.com]

I haven't read much Rilke. I tend to pick up poets slowly, and for many years i didn't like any. (I most recently tried to pick up Pablo Neruda, but couldn't resonate with him. Last year it was Emily Bronte -- I can take only so much angsty gothy poetry.)

Favorites at this point include e e cummings, Margaret Atwood, Mary Oliver, Sylvia Plath and Rumi.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

My experience is that Rilke can take some time to get to know -- especially since unless you speak fluent German, you have to read him in translation, and the quality of these varies widely, tending towards literalism at the expense of the poetry and metaphorical depth of the language. As a writer/artist, however, there are few poets who speak as clearly to me of the life of the artist ("Letters to a Young Poet" is briliant, even if a bit dated in places as far as his attitudes towards women, etc). He also speaks to me as a spiritual and magickal seeker, especially in a more non-dualistic, and tantric sense. His poems about the relationship between Man and Divinity are often quite profound.

Favorites at this point include e e cummings, Margaret Atwood, Mary Oliver, Sylvia Plath and Rumi.

Yum. You have just named five of my very favorite poets of all time. "Coincidence" -- in a comment just below, I mentioned I was just reading some e.e.cummings online, with a link to some delicious stuff.

Another Rilke poem:

Just as the Winged Energy of Delight

Just as the winged energy of delight
carried you over many chasms early on,
now raise the daringly imagined arch
holding up the astounding bridges.

Miracle doesn't lie only in the amazing
living through and defeat of danger;
miracles become miracles in the clear
achievement that is earned.

To work with things is not hubris
when building the associations beyond words;
denser and denser the pattern becomes--
being carried along is not enough.

Take your well-disciplined strengths
and stretch them between two
opposing poles. Because inside human beings
is where God learns.

(Muzot, February 1924)

[anthologie.livejournal.com]

I tried to read "Letters to a Young Poet" when I was too young to appreciate it (I *was* a young poet -- and thought it might speak to me -- but it didn't). Maybe I should try it again. :)

I have posted lots and lots of poems in my journal in the past 3+ years, and those are stored in the memories section here:

http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=anthologie&keyword=Poetry&filter=all

I also have memories sections for all the quotes I've posted, which you might enjoy rummaging around in. :)

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

Yum, thank you -- I will have to portion out my dips into that pool very carefully for the sake of time and other obligations, I could spend many hours... ;>

Ah, yes -- O For A Voice Like Thunder, a true classic. And I like your "Vow," very tactile/earthy. Thanks again!

[anthologie.livejournal.com]

Thank you. :) "Vow" was written some 11 years ago, for and about someone I loved very much at the time. I still think of that poem often.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

mmm. The depth of feeling very much comes through.

[anthologie.livejournal.com]

Remember when you were a kid and there was that whole "blood brothers" ritual among kids? With this person, I suspected (if we think in terms of past lives) we'd done that, but in another lifetime.

[chelidon.livejournal.com]

ah-yup. I know what you mean.