(no subject)
this morning i woke up and had the urge to take my bike down to the red hook pool. i spent some quality alone time swimming, laying out and reading this book rachel got me for my birthday. it's a book of letters to a young poet that were written by rainer maria rilke. she had said she always goes back to this book when she's having a tough time or to give her inspiration. coincidentally the letter i read today was very appropriate. here's an excerpt...
The necessary thing is after all but this: solitude, great inner solitude. Going-into-oneself and for hours meeting no one--this one must be able to attain. To be solitary, the way one was solitary as a child, when the grownups when around involved with things that seemed important and big because they themselves looked so busy and because one comprehended nothing of their doings.
The necessary thing is after all but this: solitude, great inner solitude. Going-into-oneself and for hours meeting no one--this one must be able to attain. To be solitary, the way one was solitary as a child, when the grownups when around involved with things that seemed important and big because they themselves looked so busy and because one comprehended nothing of their doings.