D
djeter
Guest
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The Swan
This clumsy living that moves lumbering
as if in ropes through what is not done,
reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.
And to die, which is the letting go
of the ground we stand on and cling to every day,
is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down
into the water, which receives him gaily
and which flows joyfully under
and after him, wave after wave,
while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm,
is pleased to be carried, each moment more fully grown,
more like a king, further and further on.
“You are like Rilke’s Swan in his awkward waddling across the ground; In water this most graceful of creatures is ‘evolution’s klutz stepchild’ on land. One leg seems to cross over in front of another rocking the great bird off its balance which he barely manages to salvage with his next step. And on it goes, the creature with its own ballet named after it appearing as a vomit-soaked soldier stumbling toward his bunk.
The swan doesn’t cure his awkwardness by beating himself on the back, by moving faster, or by trying to organize himself better. Rilke tells us he does it by moving toward the elemental water where he belongs. It is the simple contact with the water that gives him grace and presence.
But what Rilke is really telling us is that we only have to touch the elemental waters in our own lives, and it will transform everything. But you have to let yourself down into those waters from the ground on which you stand, and that can be hard. Particularly if you think you might drown.
And to die, which is the letting go
Of the ground we stand on and cling to every day
This nervously letting yourself down, this ängst -lichen Sich-Niederlassen, as it says in the German, takes courage, and the word courage in English comes from the old French word cuer, heart. You must do something heartfelt, and you must do it soon.
Let go of all this effort, he says, and let yourself down, however awkwardly, into the waters of the work you want for yourself. It’s all right, you know, to support yourself with something secondary until your work has ripened, but once it has ripened to a transparent fullness, it has to be gathered in. You have ripened already, and you are waiting to be brought in. Your exhaustion is a form of inner fermentation. Learn to trust the stranger who is yourself, the one you have never trusted but who has been there all your life."
A link to the David Whyte presentation and Derek Walcott’s poem that forms the second half of it . here
dj
The Swan
This clumsy living that moves lumbering
as if in ropes through what is not done,
reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.
And to die, which is the letting go
of the ground we stand on and cling to every day,
is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down
into the water, which receives him gaily
and which flows joyfully under
and after him, wave after wave,
while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm,
is pleased to be carried, each moment more fully grown,
more like a king, further and further on.
“You are like Rilke’s Swan in his awkward waddling across the ground; In water this most graceful of creatures is ‘evolution’s klutz stepchild’ on land. One leg seems to cross over in front of another rocking the great bird off its balance which he barely manages to salvage with his next step. And on it goes, the creature with its own ballet named after it appearing as a vomit-soaked soldier stumbling toward his bunk.
The swan doesn’t cure his awkwardness by beating himself on the back, by moving faster, or by trying to organize himself better. Rilke tells us he does it by moving toward the elemental water where he belongs. It is the simple contact with the water that gives him grace and presence.
But what Rilke is really telling us is that we only have to touch the elemental waters in our own lives, and it will transform everything. But you have to let yourself down into those waters from the ground on which you stand, and that can be hard. Particularly if you think you might drown.
And to die, which is the letting go
Of the ground we stand on and cling to every day
This nervously letting yourself down, this ängst -lichen Sich-Niederlassen, as it says in the German, takes courage, and the word courage in English comes from the old French word cuer, heart. You must do something heartfelt, and you must do it soon.
Let go of all this effort, he says, and let yourself down, however awkwardly, into the waters of the work you want for yourself. It’s all right, you know, to support yourself with something secondary until your work has ripened, but once it has ripened to a transparent fullness, it has to be gathered in. You have ripened already, and you are waiting to be brought in. Your exhaustion is a form of inner fermentation. Learn to trust the stranger who is yourself, the one you have never trusted but who has been there all your life."
A link to the David Whyte presentation and Derek Walcott’s poem that forms the second half of it . here
dj
My favorite part is “The swan doesn’t cure his awkwardness by beating himself on the back, by moving faster, or by trying to organize himself better. Rilke tells us he does it by moving toward the elemental water where he belongs. It is the simple contact with the water that gives him grace and presence.” The element water where I belong is when I am in union with God, when I am doing His Will in my life. Then I move more gracefully, through the power of the Holy Spirit. When I separate myself from God I move with awkwardness. Thank you for sharing!