Those Who Do Not Move Do Not Notice Their Chains

In 1912, the poet Rainer Maria Rilke was in a deep depression. His friend Lou Andreas-Salomé suggested he travel to Vienna for psychoanalysis with Sigmund Freud. Rilke declined, saying, “If my devils are to leave me, I am afraid my angels will take flight as well.”

I don't think Rilke meant that therapy is bad. I think he meant that trying to become well-adjusted too quickly spares us from the very confrontations that give depth to life.

I've certainly done that. I’ve stayed in relationships that seemed stable on the surface so I wouldn’t have to face the attachment wounds still aching underneath. I’ve played it safe in my career as a musician, blaming a toxic industry instead of facing the vulnerability of putting myself forward and risking rejected.

Be careful about measuring your pain against the seemingly well-adjusted people you see on Instagram or read in books. None of us are without wounds. And more importantly, your path is uniquely yours. The only way to truly pierce the veil of your own illusions is to be willing to try things that may well turn out to be illusory: false spiritual paths, bungled romances, journeys that don't turn out as expected.

As a meditation teacher, I often meet students who are startled by how much restlessness, sadness, or anger they notice when they first meditate. Sometimes they worry that the meditation is causing these feelings. But meditation only reveals what was already there, hidden beneath the stories we tell about how things *should* be. It takes effort in trying to stay present to see how strong are the mental currents that drag us.

Those who do not move do not notice their chains. Whatever's bothering you today, try not to analyze it from the sidelines. Step fully into it — the fear, the worry, the rage — with curiosity and compassion, and know it, as the Buddha said, like a carpenter who knows a piece of wood by feel. For it is only by testing things directly that we learn to be free.

José Clemente Orozco, "Prometheus" (1930)