I opened up this blog today and figured I needed to write a new post–it’s been a while–and then promptly wrote a poem. I’m still not sure about posting new poems on a blog, especially when I hope to some day publish the poem in a magazine, so I’m not sharing that here, except to tell you that the first lines are “I don’t win/awards” and there’s a tornado in it a bit later.

What I’m thinking about right now is how I have been seeing signs everywhere (ok, mostly on Facebook) telling me it’s time to try reading Rilke again, after nearly 30 years. That this is a poet and thinker I am likely to love, based on the quotes I’ve been reading. I even came across a book that compiles his most poignant stuff–from poems, letters and other prose–so I don’t have to wonder where to begin.

And one of the things I thought when I clicked “purchase” on that book was, “I’m glad I’m old enough that I don’t feel stupid admitting to not having read enough Rilke.” I mean, Rilke is revered, is worshipped–and I teach poetry! How could I not be familiar with him?

Well–there’s SO MUCH to read. And so much of it is good. Should I have read Rilke instead of some of my favorite living poets (Tim Seibles, Catherine Pierce, Nin Andrews, Daisy Fried, to mention just a few)? Maybe some would say yes.

But I practice nonjudging, of others or myself. Every day I live through is a triumph. Every day I have even a moment of mindfulness–of living in the present moment–is a joy and a miracle. And when I get
A Year with Rilke: Daily Readings from the Best of Rainer Maria Rilke, I will sit down on the couch, open it up, and give myself over to falling in love.


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