Spending this sultry summer afternoon reading Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke. At times, it feels as if these letters had been written directly to me. Like when he says:

“You are looking outside, and that’s what you should most avoid doing right now. […] There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write?”

Powerful words! The answer is, dear Rilke, yes. Yes! I must write to unfold the stories that flutter in my spirit, to live the lives I cannot live, to transform the outside world into the magical realm that lives within me.

Back to my reading.  Until the next blog.


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