Monday, August 24, 2009


Solitude is like the rain.
It rises from the sea to meet the evening;
It rises from the dim, far distant plain
Toward the sky, as by an old birthright.
And thence falls on the city from the height.

It falls like rain in that gray doubtful hour
When all the streets are turning towards the dawn,
And when those bodies, with all hope foregone
Of what they sought, are sorrowfully alone;
And when all men, who hate each other, creep
Together in one common bed for sleep;

Then solitude flows onward with the rivers. . .

Rainer Maria Rilke wrote Solitude around 1904. He was working as Rodin's secretary at that time. Everyone experiences solitude in one way or another, and we build our beliefs within it. Solitude is a place where there is no human activity; it is a mental state that has no boundaries or restrictions. It’s filled with the essence of being one in a quality of consciousness that senses rather than feels, and acts without doing. Retreating to the elastic continent of solitude is a refreshing dip in the raindrops of awareness. Those raindrops form puddles filled with images of a continuous dawn.

Solitude in dreams propels us towards another sky; another birthright that cascades through our consciousness. Each crease drips with an innate energy that constructs images, and creates action in an untamed reality. We are everything without being anything in those creases. The rain of awareness drenches us in formless abundance. Alone, but surrounded by the essence of self-fullness, we create a street-less city of manifestations, and they creep through our value filled physical experiences.

Solitude flows through rivers of choices, and touches the banks and bridges of our belief system. That system is expressed in our collective creations.