A morning sunrise with moon-setting
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
Good morning sisters.
I woke up early today, in hopes of catching some quiet moments to myself before the week begins. The quiet of the house before anyone wakes feels like a stolen gift. It also creates a space where I can sit with myself, in meditation and perhaps writing. I enjoy writing in the morning. I go in and out of the routine of it, but find that the words flow more freely in the morning, when I am most connected to my inner world.
This morning, I am sitting with questions. Some are big, and some a quite small, or they seem so in the grand scheme of things. The past few years have been a big time of questioning. Not just for me, but my husband as well, as we both actively search for ways in which to live our most fullest lives as individuals and together. We call it curating our lives. I work at a museum and he is an artist, so this is an analogy that makes sense to us. A curator cares for a collection of objects; ensures their safety, conducts research about the collection and when adding a new object to the group, they use a deeply discerning eye for what will fit, both aesthetically and contextually, with the rest of the collection.
We do that in small ways everyday, carefully curating the objects that come into our home or the food into our bellies, ensuring it meets our ethical, sustainable or aesthetic sensibilities. But this curation has spread to other areas of our lives, and we have been asking other questions with a discerning eye. Some feel quite big: questions as such what are my dreams? What do I value and hold dear? Or what I call our geographical existential dilemma i.e. Where do we want to live? There are questions about work and play, about starting a family and spirituality. This is what I think of as soul work. I often visualize a giant chunk of clay that I am molding and shaping with my hands. Sometimes the clay is so soft and pliable, easily worked and smoothed. Other times, the large chunk is unwieldy and unforgiving.
In many ways, a curated life is like the relationship between that giant chunk of clay and the hands that shape it. My hands must always be working the clay. There may be moments when I step back and admire it, but I suspect it won't be long before I must dive back in to mold, shape and smooth this precious thing.
There are small questions too, which sometimes feel forgotten amidst those biggies. But perhaps in answering small questions, you can arise at some bigger truths. Small things like what direction do I hope to take Moon Woman Rising in? How many yoga classes can I teach each week while also working full time? Am I drinking too much coffee? Like little chunks of clay being turned over in my palms.
I return to Rilke's quote:
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.
