I want to share one of my favourite short poems. Rilke is speaking of something elusive and subtle – hard to grasp. But to me thats the point, that is where the longing is, just beyond my grasp. And yet I somehow know I am being held. I just need to remember that when I feel the wind in my face, this is gesture enough.
It speaks to me anyway. I hope it speaks to you too.
A WALK – 1924. by Rainer Maria Rilke
My eyes already touch the sunny hill
Going far ahead of the road I have begun
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
It has its inner light, even from a distance –
And changes us, even if we do not reach it,
Into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
We already are.
A gesture waves us on, answering our own wave;
But what we feel is the wind in our faces.