i've had a day.

it was a perfect storm of madness of different varieties, and i have had all the madness i can take. so, the moment i finish this post, i'll be heading for bed. it is my sincere hope that tonight's sleep will be the 'reset' button that i need to make it all go away.

i've said it before, and i know i'll say it again, but Rilke must really have been the perfect man. he always seems to have the perfect words even when i don't know what i need to hear. and today, i need to hear the last couple lines of my very favorite poem...
The Man Watching
by Ranier Maria Rilke
by rainer maria rilke

I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can't bear without a friend,
I can't love without a sister

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we choose to fight is so tiny!
What fights us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it's with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestler's sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.

Whoever was beaten by this Angel
(who often simply declined the fight)
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.

i needed to be reminded that on these days, when i am feeling defeated on so many levels, that God can use even this defeat. my defeat.

until tomorrow...


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