A dose of Rilke, and other spring news
Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem “The Buddha in the Glory” ends with this brilliant line: “And yet, already in you is begun / something which longer than the suns shall burn.”
I return to this poem often, and the last line always lands with such weight. What are these fleeting days? What can I, one small human on one tiny blue planet, possibly expect to contribute to my community, let alone the world at large, with all of its far-flung troubles and unfinished tasks, its surprising delights and its darkest sufferings?
I return to this poem because the first ten lines suggest the expansion of the universe and the seeming insignificance that corresponds to the individual human life. How small am I, exactly? “. . . into infinity your shell / waxes.” The “I” that I consider to be essentially me — how quickly, in the grand scheme of things, “I” dissolve.
And yet. That’s how the end of the poem begins. (And isn’t that wonderful, that the end has its own beginning?) It begins, “And yet . . .”
The poem declares that, in the midst of so much expansion, in the reality of such vast space, something within you is just beginning. And it shall burn longer than the suns.
What is it? The poem does not say. And I have no idea. But I’ll chase after that, whatever it is. Not because it offers some reassurance of heaven far off in the future, but because it suggests that it has already begun, it is already here, and I, and you, and we are in it, and of it, and burning.
This month marks my final month as a studio resident at Charlotte Street. My two years in this space have meant a lot to me, and I am very thankful for so many opportunities to grow as a writer and artist. In my first year as a resident I published my second book, The Thread, which included many of my essays first shared on this newsletter. (Thank YOU for reading here first.)
In 2023 I continued to write and publish, including starting a regular column for KC Studio magazine; and I had my first multimedia installation for Closure Is Not Justice at Vulpes Bastille. At the start of 2024 I was grateful to have a second installation of Closure at Thornhill Gallery. And in between those big projects were numerous collaborations and generative conversations with friends, fellow residents, artists, and writers. I am beyond grateful for what these two years have meant for me.
So what’s next? When the residency ends in June, so will the school year for my kids. I’ll be home with them this summer, playing baseball (so much baseball), swimming, taking a few trips to some of our favorite places, carving out small windows of time for writing, and hopefully sharing more about a few new ideas that I already have in the works. Stay tuned!
But ALSO, I’ve got two things on the calendar that I’d love for you to know about and hopefully join if you’re free. The first is a reading we’re hosting at Bad Seed with some fine Missouri-based writers. Check it out:
The other event is my band’s annual summer concert at Lemonade Park, where it is guaranteed that we will play so many songs that you can’t help but sing along with me. So mark your calendars, buy your tickets, and show up ready to sing and dance!
Peace and peonies,
Andrew
