Nothing to say.
FROM DAVID WHYTE
is the transfiguration of aloneness, the defenseless interior secret core of a person receiving its overdue invitation from the moon, the stars, the night horizon and the great tidal flows of life and love.
Longing is divine discontent, the unendurable present finding a physical doorway to awe and discovery that frightens, emboldens, beckons and humiliates; makes us into pilgrim souls and sets us on some road that starts at the very center of the body, and then leads out, like an uncaring invitation, like a beckoning comet’s tail glimpsed only for a moment, but through its agency and onward tidal draw, giving us the strength to give up an imprisoning work, a confining relationship, even a perfect paid-for home, or all of our uncounted, accumulated belongings, and to get out on the road again, closing the door as we leave.
Longing is nothing without its dangerous edge, that cuts and wounds us while setting us free and beckons us exactly because of the human need to invite the right kind of peril. The foundational instinct that we are here essentially to risk ourselves in the world, that we are a form of invitation to others and to otherness, that we are meant to hazard ourselves for the right thing, for the right woman or the right man, for a son or a daughter, for the right work or for a gift given against all the odds. In longing we move and are moving from a known but abstracted elsewhere, to a beautiful, about to be reached, someone, something or somewhere we want to call our own.
The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press 2015
THE WAY BEYOND
Photo © David Whyte
July 17th 2016