"Give me your hand" is what resonates with me as I wait in the pre-dawn for my wife to wake up. During the night, I found her hand and held it for a while. It wasn't clear whether she was awake or asleep, but her hand let me know she is still there with me as we let everything happen to us in our seventies.
Like this so much, Leonard. My wife and I are 77 and touching her in the dark (and light) is reassuring because "soon" one of us will make the transition from touch. Touching makes the moment more real. Cherished.
“Make big shadows I can move in.” The glare of today’s world can be too much; the heat, unbearable. Let me stand in the way shielding you from those neon lights and the scorching heat. Like a tree, abundant with green leaves, let me stand tall and strong. May you feel a cool breeze on your face and run wild.
In my well-read copy of Anita and Joanna's translation, I have this line highlighted. It is a reminder for all the times when I am wondering where "the still small voice" is. Silent... but absolutely there. That little line holds so much... even as the terrors flow as if from a firehose.
“Let everything happen to you; beauty and terror” and “No feeling is final” resonate. I have always felt the need to run away from terror… now more than ever. I know people live with it and survive. And that the feelings change from today to tomorrow. Some days are hopeful.
"Go beyond the limits of your longing." I've been leading a group discussion on Rohr's book about the prophets. His argument is that many prophets began with rage and evolved into empathetic compassion and some stayed in their anger (like Jonah). I find myself invited to ask: so you are angry: what are you longing for? If my answer is justice what do the limits of justice look like--is the limit of my longing life giving or death dealing?
My writing and thoughts are becoming obsessed with darkness while braving a more publicly acknowledged connection with the sacred. I viscerally fear the shadow we can make when we let ourselves burn bright, but perhaps that is why it requires courage. How profound to consider how it feels to trust in the shadows.
I recently read an academic article in the field of group therapy on “mattering” and “anti-mattering” and at no point did they bring in the poetry of these words as they reflect back to cosmology and particle physics. That was a little disappointing though not surprising. Anyway, I want to write about dark-mattering and this line was encouragement.
Reading through the comments is like reading another, emphatic poem that repeats these heart’s reminders in the cadence of each of you and the timing of your responses this morning. It’s beautiful.
Thank you for the provocative question/prompt, Padraig. "Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in." I especially like the images of "flare up" and "big shadows" in this line. Sometimes, in these times, my fear can get the best of me, keep me as a tiny spark of a flame, making only slivers of shadows. If Rilke is right, it's good to know I can, in fact, I'm being demanded to burn big with the comfort of knowing God's got my back in the shadows.
We don't have to face life alone, and this is profound to me.
Thank you, Padraig and Krista and everyone who works at On Being and Poetry Unbound. I return to your website often to listen to podcasts and poems for needed strength to face the "nearby country" we call life.😉🥰
Me, too: I love that conversation between Krista and Joanna Macy, and I am am grateful to the On Being Project and Poetry Unbound — and all of you here.
It is this line " go to the limits of your longing" as I"m still in the grip of my time with you at Hutton Brickyards and before that the Iona community program on desire and longing. Longing, the consuming discontent, is paralyzing.
“Give me your hand”, this is the line that brings me to my knees as I prepare to retire for the evening. It meets another line I’ve been holding in my prayers this week, 'All things are too small to hold me, I am so vast…' from All Things by Hadewijch of Brabant.
At first these two lines seem to stand in contrast, this offering of a hand, and this knowing that 'all things are too small to hold me'. And yet, somehow, they belong together. In these past troubling days, this sense of vastness has been a guide. When I return to it, silently, in the body, I feel my shoulders soften. There is space again, my breath, and a widening, a trusting. And from that place, I am called to be courageous, to be creative, to listen. Listening in the vastness. Give me your hand... and I feel a lightness of being (after the 'seriousness life business' this last week) and held within it all.
“Give me your hand,” and “I am so vast.” What a hand that must be, what joy, what divine friendship. I will take these two poems to my dreams tonight. Thank you.
"Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror."
That word "let" speaks to control for me.
"Let" - a choice. We have some say or autonomy, perhaps?
And, with "go" it would be "let go." Less about taking control, more about letting go of control, letting the waves and shades of the "country they call life" - the harsh and impressive range of it all - happen to us; we can drop our shields and helmets. Vulnerable and free.
“Just keep going”. There are days - lately a lot of them - when it would be easier to crawl in a hole. But we can’t do that. Just keep going.
"Give me your hand" is what resonates with me as I wait in the pre-dawn for my wife to wake up. During the night, I found her hand and held it for a while. It wasn't clear whether she was awake or asleep, but her hand let me know she is still there with me as we let everything happen to us in our seventies.
Like this so much, Leonard. My wife and I are 77 and touching her in the dark (and light) is reassuring because "soon" one of us will make the transition from touch. Touching makes the moment more real. Cherished.
thank you for this intimate vision.
“Make big shadows I can move in.” The glare of today’s world can be too much; the heat, unbearable. Let me stand in the way shielding you from those neon lights and the scorching heat. Like a tree, abundant with green leaves, let me stand tall and strong. May you feel a cool breeze on your face and run wild.
“Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.”
That was the one that caught me too! I’m gonna write more about it in the comments.
SAME!!!
... then walks with us silently out of the night.
In my well-read copy of Anita and Joanna's translation, I have this line highlighted. It is a reminder for all the times when I am wondering where "the still small voice" is. Silent... but absolutely there. That little line holds so much... even as the terrors flow as if from a firehose.
“Let everything happen to you; beauty and terror” and “No feeling is final” resonate. I have always felt the need to run away from terror… now more than ever. I know people live with it and survive. And that the feelings change from today to tomorrow. Some days are hopeful.
Yes, as I noted in the comments, the line "No feeling is final" can (at least for me) provide a real anchor.
"Go beyond the limits of your longing." I've been leading a group discussion on Rohr's book about the prophets. His argument is that many prophets began with rage and evolved into empathetic compassion and some stayed in their anger (like Jonah). I find myself invited to ask: so you are angry: what are you longing for? If my answer is justice what do the limits of justice look like--is the limit of my longing life giving or death dealing?
I love this
"Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.”
My writing and thoughts are becoming obsessed with darkness while braving a more publicly acknowledged connection with the sacred. I viscerally fear the shadow we can make when we let ourselves burn bright, but perhaps that is why it requires courage. How profound to consider how it feels to trust in the shadows.
I recently read an academic article in the field of group therapy on “mattering” and “anti-mattering” and at no point did they bring in the poetry of these words as they reflect back to cosmology and particle physics. That was a little disappointing though not surprising. Anyway, I want to write about dark-mattering and this line was encouragement.
Reading through the comments is like reading another, emphatic poem that repeats these heart’s reminders in the cadence of each of you and the timing of your responses this morning. It’s beautiful.
Thank you for putting into words what I often feel when spending time in Padraig’s words and the words given in response in this artistic community.
Thank you for the provocative question/prompt, Padraig. "Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in." I especially like the images of "flare up" and "big shadows" in this line. Sometimes, in these times, my fear can get the best of me, keep me as a tiny spark of a flame, making only slivers of shadows. If Rilke is right, it's good to know I can, in fact, I'm being demanded to burn big with the comfort of knowing God's got my back in the shadows.
Me, too. Tearing up now, actually.
No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
I love all of this poem, and I love thinking about the sound of Joanna Macey's voice as she reads the poem: https://onbeing.org/poetry/go-to-the-limits-of-your-longing/. The lines that I return to over and over again are the last three:
"Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand."
We don't have to face life alone, and this is profound to me.
Thank you, Padraig and Krista and everyone who works at On Being and Poetry Unbound. I return to your website often to listen to podcasts and poems for needed strength to face the "nearby country" we call life.😉🥰
Me, too: I love that conversation between Krista and Joanna Macy, and I am am grateful to the On Being Project and Poetry Unbound — and all of you here.
Thank you for the link to the reading.
Yes, thank you so much. I just listened to Joanna Macey.
No feeling is final…
Not love not grief
They are all being made new
It is this line " go to the limits of your longing" as I"m still in the grip of my time with you at Hutton Brickyards and before that the Iona community program on desire and longing. Longing, the consuming discontent, is paralyzing.
"Embody me."
Bring whatever I have.
Balance heaviness with joy.
Balance chaos with silence.
Bring wisdom, wealth, words, and love in any measure to my sphere.
Embody me there.
“bring whatever I have”
this line got me here in this re-reading
“Give me your hand”, this is the line that brings me to my knees as I prepare to retire for the evening. It meets another line I’ve been holding in my prayers this week, 'All things are too small to hold me, I am so vast…' from All Things by Hadewijch of Brabant.
At first these two lines seem to stand in contrast, this offering of a hand, and this knowing that 'all things are too small to hold me'. And yet, somehow, they belong together. In these past troubling days, this sense of vastness has been a guide. When I return to it, silently, in the body, I feel my shoulders soften. There is space again, my breath, and a widening, a trusting. And from that place, I am called to be courageous, to be creative, to listen. Listening in the vastness. Give me your hand... and I feel a lightness of being (after the 'seriousness life business' this last week) and held within it all.
“Give me your hand,” and “I am so vast.” What a hand that must be, what joy, what divine friendship. I will take these two poems to my dreams tonight. Thank you.
And I’m reading these just after waking - thank you, this resonates deeply with me.
"Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror."
That word "let" speaks to control for me.
"Let" - a choice. We have some say or autonomy, perhaps?
And, with "go" it would be "let go." Less about taking control, more about letting go of control, letting the waves and shades of the "country they call life" - the harsh and impressive range of it all - happen to us; we can drop our shields and helmets. Vulnerable and free.