A poem and a mystery

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
you, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going.
No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by seriousness.
Give me your hand.
Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926)

I read this poem over a week ago
Can’t stop thinking about it and rereading it
I wonder if it’s true
It could explain the mystery of why we live and die like we do
It could explain my sister
Four years ago today, she died
Liver failure
She literally drank herself to death
I say that only to say, it’s exactly how she lived
Doing what she wanted, everyone else be damned
She tried quitting, but she liked it too much
She went into rehabs, but never stayed
She was a mean drunk to everyone, but me
But, what if she picked that life as a lesson?
Was that the limit of her longing?
What if she knew before birth, she would die like that?
What if we all did but we lose the memory of it all, during birth
What if this really is a school?
I’ve always heard we are spiritual beings having a human experience
What if we are?
If this is the life you chose?
The lessons you wanted to learn, that you picked out
Would it explain homelessness?
All addictions?
Murder and suicide?
Are accidents accidents?
Are families coincidences or choices?

Michael and I both felt an instant jolt the first time we saw each other
A real connection the first time we sat and talked
Did we pick each other out before we got here?
Fascinating to think about
The answers are as elusive as air
We find what feels true
Sounds good and possible
But, nobody knows a thing
Where we come from and where we go is a big unknown
All we can do is speculate
But, in some way I find comfort in the idea that it’s all a choice
That randomness is really precision
That everything is the point
That everything is spiritual
Everything matters
Everything is connected
Even the mystery of Mendy

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