Toliet seats and Rilke's grave adventure

...so we go on living. one breath at a time. one heart beat, then the next. to steal a thought from Mary Karr, the clock ticks, "now, now." there is urgency with every step, a hurriedness to every bite. then i woke to that awful sensation. and my mind said in a voice resembling Ralph from the simpson's, "Oh no! my mouth tastes like burning." a few hours later, i emerged from the stale cold bathroom, pepto pink tiles lining the walls seemed a like a sunrise next to what was emitting itself from my own being. no nausea, just puke. 2 days of puke.

today was our day off. Tim and i had planned to go to a town about an hour or 2 away to visit the poet Rainer Maria Rilke's grave. ( i inserted Early Spring one of his poem's below) such beauty to his work, such insight into a world that is so beautifully broken with potential. well, thanks to my late night rendezvoux with le toilet, plans had to be changed. we instead made a winter world in my bunk, complete with poetry and drawn pictures of the grave yard. it was a beautiful day, one of which i slept much away. to be ill and wrapped in the warm arms of a poem seems just like the stillness my soul was searching for this week.

i mentioned in my last blog that i had received some hard news. the funny thing is, i am so happy it came. i am so glad that it is finally done. that though it may have initially been hard, it is good. we watched a movie last night called "the choosen" about 2 jewish teenagers who become friends. the hasidic one's father tells him towards the end of the movie that he spent much of their time together in silence because it was in the silence that he learned how to connect his head and his heart. the son learned the great pain and loneliness of the world, while at the same time learning the great joy and compassion or it as well. the father asks, "was i wrong to teach in this way? was i not a good father? i do not know." i think that was such a beautiful image of God, we think that He is cold, or not there, but in His silence He is loving us more than we could ever know and teaching us how to use that love.

i am learning. it is good. it is silent, but for that i am thankful.

be still. be loved.

Early Spring

Harshness vanished. A sudden softness
has replaced the meadows' wintry grey.
Little rivulets of water changed
their singing accents. Tendernesses,

hesitantly, reach toward the earth
from space, and country lanes are showing
these unexpected subtle risings
that find expression in the empty trees.