Poetry Chaikhana Blog

Song of a Man Who Has Come Through
by D. H. Lawrence

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!
A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me!
If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift!
If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself and am borrowed
By the fine, fine, wind that takes its course through the chaos of the world
Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows,
The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.

No, no, it is the three strange angels.
Admit them, admit them.

— from The Complete Poems of D. H. Lawrence, by D. H. Lawrence

/ Image by Alief vinicius /

I have always been fascinated by this poem. It is haunting, unsettling, yet, at the same time, hopeful and filled with a sense of wondrous magic in the world.

Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me!

I love this opening line. Have you ever noticed how wearying personal will is? Eventually everything feels like a dead effort. But when we learn the magician’s trick of yielding, of letting the currents of life flow through us, delight pours through us with such surprising ease and actions form into unexpected success…

Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul,
I would be a good fountain, a good well-head,
Would blur no whisper, spoil no expression.

Why the following image of the wind becoming like a chisel?

By the fine, fine, wind that takes its course through the chaos of the world
Like a fine, an exquisite chisel, a wedge-blade inserted;
If only I am keen and hard like the sheer tip of a wedge
Driven by invisible blows…

The wind that moves through the world and through the poet seems to represent spirit or life itself. It makes of the individual a chisel, driving the clear seeing, solid individual (“if only I am keen and hard”) into the world to split apart its rigidity and walls, opening the hidden pathways to wondrous lands.

What is the reference to the Hesperides that follows?

The rock will split, we shall come at the wonder, we shall find the Hesperides.

The Hesperides is both a sacred garden at the edge of the world and the three nymphs who tend it. Their garden has a tree that produces the golden apples of immortality. The three nymphs are usually associated with night, mystery and magic. They embody all that the imagination envisions at the precipice of existence, the edge of the world, the edge of the night, the edge of life and death. It would take a heroic journey just to reach their garden, but it might open us to wonders.

And if we hear a knocking from something outside our comfortable known boundaries, the natural reaction is fear.

What is the knocking?
What is the knocking at the door in the night?
It is somebody wants to do us harm.

But the poet tells us to fear not, to welcome the strangers.

No, no, it is the three strange angels.

For they bear wonder and magic and the sweet secret of life.

Admit them, admit them.

When we yield and allow the wind to blow through us, sometimes throwing us against the world, we become stronger, sharper. We find chinks in the walls, hidden spaces. We widen them, pass through them, opening new pathways, until, finally, we receive that mysterious visit and the golden apple of the Hesperides.

Have a beautiful day!

Recommended Books: D. H. Lawrence

The Complete Poems of D. H. Lawrence	Birds, Beasts and Flowers: Poems	The Selected Poems of D. H. Lawrence	Acts of Attention: The Poems of D. H. Lawrence	Self & Sequence: The Poetry of D. H. Lawrence
More Books >>

D. H. Lawrence England (1885 – 1930) Timeline Secular or Eclectic

More poetry by D. H. Lawrence

Better to be whole and happy,
than perfect.

A Walk
by Rainer Maria Rilke

English version by Robert Bly

My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light, even from a distance–

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on,
answering our own wave…
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

— from Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke, Translated by Robert Bly

/ Image by Michael Cummins /

Where has the Poetry Chaikhana been for the past several weeks? First of all, let me reassure everyone that I am okay. But things have been up in my life. We went through a move recently — local this time, still in the Eugene area, but a major effort, especially while I was trying to maintain my work hours with my day job as a computer programmer. Then, Apollo, our beloved dog of many years passed away unexpectedly. He was an important part of our family and we have been grieving his loss. And, of course, I have been paying attention to the terrible situation in Israel/Palestine. I have been balancing a lot while trying to remain open-hearted and an avenue for compassion, both in my family and in the world.

But you, the Poetry Chaikhana community, are my extended family, and I have missed our shared time together. I am so glad to be back with you!

Let’s take a walk with Rilke today…

=

My eyes already touch the sunny hill,
going far ahead of the road I have begun.

This is a fascinating truth that we tend to forget in the hard materiality of the modern world-view: We do not only touch the things with which we come into physical contact. We are often just as profoundly affected by what we see, even when it is out of our reach or not yet within our reach in the physical sense. Sight is a form of touch. It is contact. We touch, and are touched by, what we see.

Rilke’s insight invites us to expand our understanding further still. If what we see with our eyes is a vital sort of contact, then, naturally, what we see, but not with our eyes is just as vital. What we imagine, what we daydream, what we plan, what comes to us in dreams and meditative vision, these touch us too. They affect us. We react to them. They nurture us, feed us, or they may unsettle us and break our hearts.

So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has its inner light, even from a distance–

Real touch is not about fingertips on skin or hard metal. Real touch is heart to heart, mind to mind. Real touch is a process within the awareness, not about flat matter encountering more matter.

What we seek is never what we seek, but the affect it has on us. With everything we pursue in life, what we actually seek is self-transformation. But the truth is that we don’t even need that external other thing, physical or imagined, to be changed. The transformed self is already within us, just awaiting our own permission to be that. That is why Rilke says–

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are…

Whether we yearn for a beloved person or place or circumstance, that encounter always awaits us within.

a gesture waves us on,
answering our own wave…
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

We can read his final lines as suggesting something about the ephemeral nature of reality, or it can be the dawning recognition that we are continuously receiving communication, encouragement, contact. We have just been missing it because of our fixed ideas about what we seek and what is real.

Sending love to you all…

Recommended Books: Rainer Maria Rilke

The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry	Ahead of All Parting: The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke	The Soul is Here for its Own Joy: Sacred Poems from Many Cultures	Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God	In Praise of Mortality: Rilke’s Duino Elegies & Sonnets to Orpheus
More Books >>

Rainer Maria Rilke Germany (1875 – 1926) Timeline Secular or Eclectic

More poetry by Rainer Maria Rilke

Opposites are not opposed,
but joined.

We dance along that seam of connection.