Rilke advised me to "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves..."
I took his advice.
I swallowed his words whole hoping they would take root and grow in my belly like the absurd possibility of eaten watermelon seeds.
I watered the questions.
I took risks.
I went to places I'd never dreamed possible and met people that were easier and harder to love than the questions themselves.
I got lost in their stories.
I learned the unspoken language and the pauses in their speech.
I saw that we shared the same questions
and we all struggle to love them.
Questions are hard to love.
They are restless wanderers that leave as soon as you become used to their company
and return to visit when you aren't prepared to face them.
"Live the questions now", Rilke tells me.
In their curvy strength I'm to live, to breathe and be content.
Am I to ride wholeheartedly the uncertainty of this rollercoaster?
At every bend should I raise my arms in gleeful surrender and finally exhale at the abrupt dot’s end?
This question’s ride is not always amusing.
The question isn't if I've lived the question Mr. Rilke,
but have questions really helped me to live?
T.L. Eastman 2015 Copyright