And yet for all but the very fortunate and the very foolish, this difficult transition is an inevitable part of the human experience, of the ceaseless learning journey that is life — because, after all, anything worth pursuing is worth failing at, and fail we do as we pursue. And you know that somehow — no matter who you meet in your life in the future, and no matter what species of happiness you would share with them — you will never, ever share those particular dreams again, with that particular tonality and coloration.
In fact, perhaps unsurprisingly, Whyte is among the millions moved by the Oliver classic, which derives its magic from how open-endedly yet pointedly it speaks to multiple dimensions of the human experience, unified by the urgency of reaching for a greater life that is possible.
The Marginalian participates in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn commissions by linking to Amazon. In more human terms, this means that whenever you buy a book on Amazon from any link on here, I receive a small percentage of its price, which goes straight back into my own colossal biblioexpenses. Sometimes simplicity rises like a blossom of fire from the white silk of your own skin.
You were there in the beginning you heard the story, you heard the merciless and tender words telling you where you had to go. Exile is never easy and the journey itself leaves a bitter taste. But then, when you heard that voice, you had to go. I came across it after I already had decided on a poem for this week coincidentally called Begin — by Rumi and it stopped me in my tracks like it had eight years ago when I first read it. But though it caught me back then and I copied it out, it soon slipped away and left no trace of memory till I saw it again now.
Or maybe I could go there… but to put my own words and concepts on it, somehow feels like it would cheapen it. But to come back to this poem: even though I may not quite understand it, in my heart of hearts I somehow know what he is talking about, and it lands as a call to action as well as a reassurance, a comfort and an affirmation.
Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Post comment. In that first hardly noticed moment to which you wake, coming back to this life from the other more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world where everything began, there is a small opening into the new day which closes the moment you begin your plans.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough for the vitality hidden in your sleep. To be human is to become visible while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others. To remember the other world in this world is to live in your true inheritance. You are not a troubled guest on this earth, you are not an accident amidst other accidents you were invited from another and greater night than the one from which you have just emerged.
Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window toward the mountain presence of everything that can be, what urgency calls you to your one love? What shape waits in the seed of you to grow and spread its branches against a future sky? Is it waiting in the fertile sea? In the trees beyond the house? In the life you can imagine for yourself? In the open and lovely white page on the waiting desk? The House of Belonging. Thanks to Joe Riley of Panhala for posting this one!
Tags: becoming true to yourself , David Whyte , following your own inner voice , John O'Donohue , nature , opening to the mystery of life , panhala , Poetry , receptivity , trusting your intuition.
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