Do you remember as a kid folding a square of paper and making a paper fortune teller (also known as a cootie catcher)? Well, fun fact— that was actually origami. Please drop a 🤍 or restack if you enjoy today’s post.
I Am Too Alone in the World, and Not Alone Enough
by German poet Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Robert Bly
I am too alone in the world, and not alone enough
to make every minute holy.
I am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough
just to lie before you like a thing,
shrewd and secretive.
I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will,
as it goes toward action,
and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone.
I want to be a mirror for your whole body,
and I never want to be blind, or to be too old
to hold up your heavy and swaying picture.
I want to unfold.
I don’t want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded, there I am a lie.
And I want my grasp of things
true before you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I looked at
closely for a long time,
like a saying that I finally understood,
like the pitcher I use every day,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that took me safely
through the wildest storm of all.
This past Sunday, Rilke's poem found me when I drew a card from a wooden inspiration box in my kitchen.
Rilke wrote this poem to his lover; such as love is, his words are full of contradictions.
As an origami shape-shifter, I know what it’s like to be small but not small enough and how it feels to be gathered, pleated, creased, and living hidden in a lie.
We all started tucked into ourselves in an increasingly unyielding dome that was our mother’s body. Even though we may have wanted to, we couldn't have lived in her forever, nor could we have stayed sewn up that way.
Our magnificence takes days, months, and years to unfurl.
As I matured, my folds lengthened as I did, never revealing their mysterious contents. Upon realizing the world wasn't safe, I wrinkled myself even more elaborately.
Folds provide the scaffolding to protect, but only disassembly and smoothing moves us forward.
One day, if you're lucky, something will nudge you to peek inside a tuck. One flap connects to another, and the folds become undone. Once released, you can no longer remember how to return them to their old compacted state.
The unfolding reveals the truth of who we are: wide-open and sensitive to everyone and everything, especially a harsh word. The soft parts that were formerly hidden show themselves as pale and tender. No storm has weathered them.
With seven trillion (!) nerves inside the human body, we are designed to feel every color of the rainbow. We are feeling machines, but sometimes, many times, the emotions deluge us.
"I don't know if I'm extremely sensitive or life is unbearable."
Vincent Van Gogh
For me, these weeks before the election have been rough.
If you're an American or an ally reading this, you probably are shocked by the U.S. culture-wars and politics spectacle taking place. You may feel foreboding about the upcoming election and the next twenty days of suspense and desperation.
Maybe you thought you knew “the painting” that was the United States, but a new image has appeared, and parts of her are grotesquely ugly.
But we are finally at the truth. Awareness is the first step.
Fight your urge to look away from the debacle and instead consider this an opportunity to pause, gather courage, study the open seam, and affirm the integrity of the original colors. Unfold to the truth so you can describe as Rilke does - as a painting you’ve looked closely at for a long time.
Marinate in your senses, beautiful human!
“The opposite of sensitive is not brave. It’s not brave to refuse to pay attention, to refuse to notice, to refuse to feel and know and imagine. The opposite of sensitive is insensitive, and that’s no badge of honor.”
Glennon Doyle
Yoga teaches to stop and breathe, enhancing our sensitivity, especially crucial in the next few weeks. An inhale and an exhale are sometimes enough to gain perspective. Practicing emotion regulation is the way through your sensate journey and is the most valuable tool in your possession.
Numbing ourselves got us here and is no answer. Instead, breathe, observe, and stay present. The turmoil will pass—it always does, so stay focused on the joy wherever you find it. Better yet, seek it out!
If you’re afraid for the future our country, take heart. You’re not alone, but we need your courage going forward. No more hiding.
Here is a mantra for you:
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
Frank Herbert, Dune
Next week, I’ll update you on my Kamala Harris sign. A lot has happened since the sign was first vandalized on October 4th.
This article made me think about how our bodies themselves are like origami, constantly folding and unfolding as we move through life. Our experiences leave creases and marks, shaping who we are. Maybe the key isn't to avoid the folds, but to learn to appreciate the intricate patterns they create.
This Is So Beautiful! Poignant!
Somehow I missed the sign vandalism. I don't want to say I look forward to hearing about the update, but I'll be watching for it.