i’m going to go out on a limb and guess that Rilke wrote his letters to a young poet without high hopes that they would someday be printed in romantic fonts over images of small girls at the edge of the sea, then pinned into obscurity in collections titled “wise words . . . remember this.”
yet out here on my limb, trembling to keep balance, i hang on every word.
in ballet they tell you to jump from your feet, that all is balance, the force you exert downward is what sends you sky-high. the more hard work you do to root yourself into the floor, the stronger your rebound can be.
root and rebound.
i’ve spent the last month practicing this, rooting into home like a burrowing beast on high-alert. the farther i press into the things i know, love, and crave, the more buoyed i feel for the rebound outward. and suddenly, i’m ready to jump.
this round of jumping looks like: my first international flight, a week in london, one great book, a wander-to-wonder agenda, and time at tea with a dear sister-friend. i’m leaving my computer at home. srsly.
here’s to leaving the limb, living the questions, and sharing a million pictures along the way . . . maybe even a few with romantic fonts and quotes turned cliché for good measure.