“Let everything happen to you; Beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final” ― Rainer Maria Rilke
About this. What no one tells you about ‘just keep going’ is that the going might mean so much turmoil. The going might mean sadness that feels like it’s going to swallow you whole. That the going might mean being unable to laugh without crying, for a little bit at least. That slumber becomes the only place you exist without sorrow, and even then, dreams have a way of drawing it close.
It’s the vulnerability of it all. To know that love and loss coexist. That feeling dreams means feeling their pain. That smiles can be followed by heartbreak but still it’s worth smiling. And dreaming. And loving. Every chance we get.
Sometimes feeling alive can be the most blissful experience, a gift from another world. And sometimes feeling alive can be haunting, like a curse we don’t deserve.
Somewhere in both of those experiences is the whole fucking point. It’s the ‘let everything happen to you’ bit. It’s the reality that nothing is conflict, everything is complimentary, because it’s all our reality. It’s the truth.
So what if, when you were happy you were just happy without fear of it being taken away. When you’re sad, grieving or heartbroken, you’re pulling up to those monsters knowing that they’re the worst but also not stronger than you either. What if everything that was good, and everything that was broken, were mirrors. Neutral reflections teaching you, shaping you, anchoring you, molding you, and ultimately leaving you with a chorus of marks meant to accompany you home. Home to yourself. Home to great love, the one that exist in every breath you have.
Nothing is final. Your highs will nose dive. Your canyons will be full again. Keep going. Go with a broken heart. Go with a lost soul. Go with a heavy mind. Go with the weight of the world sitting on your shoulders. Take it all with you until it leads you to the place where you’re ready to set it down.
Beauty and terror. All at once. But not forever.
Woman on xx
PS. One of the great short reads that I return to every 6 months or so is ‘Letters to a Young Poet’ by Rilke. If you haven’t, do.