Winter storm coming

July 7, 2013

This past week a winter storm blew in from the antarctic across the waters of Storm Bay bringing first wind, then freezing rain. I thrive during these days and want to be no where else. Certainly not in a city as I strongly feel there is a lesson to be learned in being blasted by the elements.

DSC_8843 (1)

As the storm approached, I went to the top of the Wombat Circle and did a short video; my second attempt at this new artistic discipline.

I am including two videos to get some sort of reader feedback. The first is with only the wind. The second video has a voice over of a poem by Rilke. I’d be interested in people’s responses.

I had to omit sections of the poem to fit it into the video, but what-the-hell, I’m on a steep learning curve.

The Man Watching

I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can’t bear without a friend,
I can’t love without a sister.

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape, like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we choose to fight is so tiny!
What fights with us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it’s with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared
to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestlers’ sinews
grew long like metal strings,
the Angel felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.

Whoever is beaten by this Angel,
(who often simply declines to fight)
goes away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneads us as if to change our shape.
Winning does not tempt us.
This is how we grow: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.

Rainer Maria Rilke (translated by Robert Bly; adapted Peter Adams)

trees and wombat circle 1 from Peter Adams on Vimeo.

Here’s the second video with poem

trees and wombat circle 2 from Peter Adams on Vimeo.

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{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

bev reeler July 8, 2013 at 8:03 pm

wonderful wild weather Peter – and John sitting in 100 degrees. Zimbabwe feels very tame in comparison – our wild challenges are human made!

John Caddy July 8, 2013 at 9:13 am

Peter, Well done! Well read! Love the wind in she oaks. Yesterday, my son’s sailboat successfully transited Torres Straits between PNG and Australia. Took a few days. Difficult errant winds the whole scary way. Perhaps the offspring of your Antarctic winds?
It’s about 100 degrees here and most muggy. A hard angel to wrestle with.

Allan Moult July 7, 2013 at 9:56 pm

A very impressive beginning to a new way of communicating. Well done.

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