Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Rilke's Roots.

In dreams things happen to you but this time I was in control




A mountain hostel somewhere in Eastern Europe, the weather calm and sunny. I'd climbed a little way up to a rise in the ground where I could see snowy peaks all round but the place wasn't suitable. Yellow earth moving machines were there and a notice saying, Keep Out. Returning I'd dug myself a grave not far from the door and was planning to be buried alive. Being somewhat wimpish I'd bought a couple of pills from the doctor to calm me down. They cost £1.50 and I dropped the rest of my unneeded change into a charity box.

There was no hurry. No one took any interest. My grave was homely with a candle holder on one wall, but the dry soil seemed sterile and all too neat and constructed.

I awake now, but the grave was waiting. There was no hurry. I'd been reading Rilke:

"But when I lean over the chasm of myself- it seems my God is dark and like a web: a hundred roots silently drinking.

Mien Gott ist dunkel und wie ein Gewebe von hundert Wurzeln, welche schweigsam trinken."

More I don't know, because my roots rest in deep silence, stirred only by the wind. They are in a dark ferment. They explore blindly, clinging to the rock. There is much to explore, lots of other roots, fungal hypha, wiggling nematodes and insect grubs. I am a neural network growing and sensing. Chemicals surge down from above. Some clinging roots have grown so large they see the sky.

"Whom should I turn to, if not the one whose darkness is darker than the night, the only one who keeps vigil with no candle, and is not afraid - the deep one, whose being I trust, for it breaks through the earth into trees, and rises, when I bow my head, faint as a fragrance from the soil."

I feel the wind. It is tearing me out of darkness to another dawn.

4 Comments:

Blogger John Pendrey said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

10:56 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Having proven that I am not a robot, I am possibly as dark as the night wind seeking all who lie buried beneath soiled blankets to remain earthbound.
"A man gets tied up to the ground..." Paul Simon
My sister loved Rilke; I am deeper, darker, more or less intense according to nature. I joined you in your silty darkness and whispered through the canyons of your emptiness.

9:30 pm  
Blogger Friko said...

Be ahead of all farewells, as if they were behind you, like the winter that is just departing.

Duineser Elegien

12:10 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Here, I am; this is ME", lyrics to a Bryan Adams tune introduce a mutual feminine fan. I was here before as someone other. Our perceptions afford ME a different view, a sunnier outlook. We both love everything about you and would pull you away from all of this darkness while allowing your roots to be undisturbed. Grow and Multiply. Be fruity. lol lil' aka ME adores you're work.

7:46 pm  

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