009 | Reflections on Reading Rilke’s Letters
10:50 AM, Saturday
Otis Coffee feeling cozy AF
Dear Friends,
I am writing to you on a lovely Saturday morning. I am feeling especially cozy in my big mustard sweater here at Otis coffee. I have time this morning, and I'm thankful to not rush.
I was returning a book to the library this week, and thought to check if they had a copy of Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet available, and haza! they did!
Of course, it is slightly ridiculous that I do not own a copy at the moment since I’ve been reading and re-reading this book for over half my life, but I gave my last copy away, and I’ve decided I am not permitted to buy books until I am 100% debt free. And so, to the library I go.
Upon checking out the book, I found myself walking about old-town Arvada, a little area of town that houses a number of my favorite breweries, as well as perhaps my most beloved third space, The Arvada Tavern.
The Arvada Tavern // Taken with Ilford HP5 on my first roll of film.
It was afternoon, and The Tav’s doors were not yet open, so I settled on walking to a nearby brewery to sit with Rilke’s Letters.
As I began reading, I felt I needed to sit and read through the entirety of the letters that afternoon. It just seemed necessary. Not urgent, but important.
I also had a sense I needed to take it all in without writing anything down. It was actually perfect that I couldn’t underline or make markings because the book was not mine.
I noted the manner in which I felt I needed to take in the book, cover to cover in one sitting, without trying too hard to understand or remember, but simply taking it all in and letting it soak and impart in my body, trusting whatever I needed to take root would unassumingly and quietly begin to grow and sprout in its own time. Ironically, Rilke spoke to this exact perspective only a few pages later ...
Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one’s own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this alone is what it means to live as an artist: in understanding as in creating.
I smiled upon reading it, not only because it addressed the thought I had only moments before, but also because I remembered it as a passage that perhaps some 10 years ago sparked in me then, and once again, a kind of feeling of rest and home in me.
Here I am, reading familiar words.
Here I am, still learning.
Here I am, once again.
(The time on my watch now reads half past four. The Tav is open. I take a walk and relocate.)
On this particular read, I found in these pages, not just words for a life of creating, but immense guidance in deep concerns I've had about various challenging relationships and circumstances, ones I so earnestly want to navigate well, but knew not how to steer myself in such a way that honored my own course without being dishonest or dismissing another’s.
I found in Rilke’s words such tender care towards difficult, important things, while also a release in feeling no obligation or false loyalty towards carrying burdens that do not belong to me.
I cannot even begin to tell of all the words that so keenly resonated within me at this reading of Letters. Rilke’s words captured me when I first read them, who knows, some 18 years ago? I knew then they were speaking to the depths of me, but come to think of it, this is the first time I am reading this book with complete belief and ownership in myself as an artist, singer, and songwriter. There was always some doubt before, and now, though I have much to learn, it is who I am. I could not wake and deny creating music anymore than I could deny my breath. And so, I found on this reading, words lit up with new meaning and hints at doors I was previously unawares.
My, my ... look what happens when one takes that truest step to leap into a thing wholly, regardless of no guarantee of sticking the landing.
May you find courage as you navigate your own path and leaps,
Shel
P.S. Welcome to everyone who signed up for these letters at the Larimer Lounge show this week. I'm glad you're here.
Larimer Lounge –– 3.14.19 | Photo by: Liza Shchiglinskaya // Edit by: Me
New Music Tomorrow
I am thrilled to be releasing a new single tomorrow called "What The Water Gave", from my EP Human to Human (releasing April 2019).
The main image was taken by my dear friend Kelsey Yandura, and I couldn't be happier with how it turned out. It really was a special moment captured.
You can pre-save/pre-order by clicking here.
If you stream your music through Spotify, Apple Music, etc., but would like to directly support the song and my music in general, you can do so via Cash App, Venmo, or PayPal.
THIS WEEK:
Watched/listened to this video of Julien Baker's full show at Brooklyn Steel with Pitchfork LIVE while I re-organized my room to be more music/recording friendly.
Posted this quote on Twitter that I'm still very much chewing on.
