Fear of the Inexplicable

" But fear of the inexplicable has not alone impoverished the existence of the individual; the relationship between one human being and another has also been cramped by it, as though it had been lifted out of the riverbed of endless possibilities and set down in a fallow spot on the bank, to which nothing happens. For it is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new,unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical, will live the relation to another as something alive and will himself draw exhaustively from his own existence. For if we think of this existence of the individual as a larger or smaller room, it appears evident that most people learn to know only a corner of their room, a place by the window, a strip of floor on which they walk up and down. Thus they have a certain security. And yet that dangerous insecurity is so much more human which drives the prisoners in Poe's stories to feel out the shapes of their horrible dungeons and not be strangers to the unspeakable terror of their abode. We, however, are not prisoners. No traps or snares are set about us, and there is nothing which should intimidate or worry us. We are set down in life as in the element to which we best correspond, and over and above this we have through thousands of years of accommodation become so like this life, that when we hold still we are, through a happy mimicry,scarcely to be distinguished from all that surrounds us. We have no reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us. Has it terrors, they are our terrors; has it abysses, those abuses belong to us; are dangers at hand, we must try to love them. And if only we arrange our life according to that principle which counsels us that we must always hold to the difficult, then that which now still seems to us the most alien will become what we most trust and find most faithful. How should we be able to forget those ancient myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. " Rainer Maria Rilke  ....i am just TOO aLiVe to be perfect.  perfection IS a form of protection of our fears of what is inexplicable in our lives? R.i.P. Reassurance PeRfecT PROTEST  ...and then i just have to honor this uprooting in me that has occurred merely since yesterday and which i believe may be monumental in marking a new season for me, because i can no longer ignore the rumblings from within or even think that  these words are going to do no less than haunt me evermore ... or until i simply acknowledge this awareness of all that is thoroughly interconnected -  from this particular work of collected words, random thoughts, unintentional happenings, postings from certain sites, peculiar images, and undeveloped ideas - is what causes the rising in my soul to scream for freedom, and in a way that reminds me that this freedom isn't nor hasn't been so far removed that i won't be able to recognize it. it may not be the same freedom that i believe i have and do experience, but it will be a freedom that springs out of me, more faithfully and with a strength that i am sure is beyond everything i have ever known.   for whatever its worth, and with absolute inexplicable belief, today is different, and without any reservation, i am ready to do what ever it takes to make this happen, beginning with every little thing that matters to me.

I have great faith in all things not yet spoken.
I want my deepest pious feelings freed.
What no one yet has dared to risk and warrant
will be for me a challenge I must meet.

If this presumptious seems, God, may I be forgiven.
For what I want to say to you is this:
my efforts shall be like a driving force,
quite without anger, without timidness
as little children show their love for you.

With these outflowing, river-like, with deltas
that spread like arms to reach the open sea,
with the recurrent tides that never cease
will I acknowledge you, will I proclaim you
as no one ever has before.

And if this should be arrogance, so let me
arrogant be to justify my prayer
that stands so serious and so alone
before your forehead, circled by the clouds.

*Rainer Maria Rilke*