Blurred vision

An ode to Rilke's dyadic solitudes

Photo by Todd Trapani on Unsplash

I think I see most clearly when I allow my vision to blur.

When I look at an object for a while.

Something changes.

The edges shift.

The details fade.

The separateness dissolves. I start to see the gestalt. The context. I see it all.

The last time I meditated with seated purpose, I stared at a tree branch as my focal point. As my perception shifted, so did my consciousness. I saw that branch sitting in a mosaic up above me. The tree, the leaves, the other trees nearby. The breeze silkily winding its ways between and within. My breath in the cold, crisp air. Each breath speaking to the breeze. The leaves. The branches. The place itself.

I think I saw truth. Without the aid of my thoughts. Without the aid of labels. Unreduced. Whole. As is.

I saw relations as the are. Interconnected.

When Rilke famously wrote in his Letters to a Young Poet, that mature love consists of “two solitudes that protect, border, and greet each other”, was he apprehending this truth, or missing it?

When things exits in relation to each other, they exist in relation to the whole. They are differentiated in essence, yet also connected. So, when the leaf speaks with the branch, does it surrender to the branch and merge with it, to make one undifferentiated entity? Or does it greet the branch as a leaf, knowing that each can dignify the other through acceptance, thereby working together to help create a tree?

Our minds grasp for concreteness when we engage with these dilemmas. They seek a way to find truth in absolute certainty. One single position. Not understanding that this single position contains within it all positions.

The leaf ‘knows’ that’s what it is. It does not question this. It has an inherent intelligence that guides it to take the shape of a leaf and function as the leaf does. Yet it is also connected to the branch, which is connected to the trunk, which connects with the roots, and so on. None can exist in isolation from the others. And the whole cannot exist without each of its constituents.

If all things exist is a state of relating, at all times, then human relationships also do. We need to respect and know the solitude of the self, in order for the self to greet the other. Not as an object, but as a subject. To form a symbiotic mutualistic relationship that benefits both people. A subject that exists inherently, and also extrinsically - in connection.

Without giving respect to this solitude, we dishonour and subjugate our essential existence to possess and be possessed. We end up ‘eating’ each other alive. Battling to exist; rather than existing to grow alongside, and in connection with.

Relationships always end because they are finite, constructed things that help us conceptualise connections that we form with others. Relating does not. It is universal.

Rilke understood this so elegantly that it almost goes beyond words.