Go Into Yourself.

Rainer Maria Rilke and the Rugged Reality of Life

“There is nothing outside of yourself. Look within. Everything you want is there.”

— Rumi

Amongst the many topics I’ve been researching¹ for potential MONOLOGUEs is the loneliness epidemic. For several years now, the media’s been reporting on troubling statistics, citing a rise in social isolation. Even before the pandemic, “61% of Americans over the age of 18 years were lonely, a dramatic increase since the 1970s when rates were as low as 11 percent.”² Gen Z, meanwhile, is clocking in as the loneliest generation of all.

Last night, my friends were discussing whether A.I. could help solve loneliness. One of them is even building an A.I. friend app for this specific reason. My immediate thought was Joaquin Phoenix’s character in the 2013 film, Her. Phoenix falls in love with his digital companion (voiced by Scarlett Johansson) and then snaps out of it by the end, returning to the warmth of human connection.

On one side of the debate is the argument that technology facilitates conversations and makes relationships more accessible. The opposition, meanwhile, believes that technology (notably social media) has only further divided us and nailed us to our corners (There’s also the opinion that things are not as bad as they appear³).

Whenever I hear about loneliness — or feel Bieber lo-o-o-nely myself — I can’t help but think of Letters to a Young Poet, a short collection of letters between the Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke⁴ and a 19-year-old officer cadet named Franz Xaver Kappus. For six years, between 1902 and 1908, Kappus writes Rilke, asking if he has the chops to be a poet himself. Through their correspondence, Rilke leans in and offers all sorts of life advice from romantic relationships⁵ to heeding criticism to the meaning of artistry⁶.

What the ten letters are really about, however, is Kappus’ loneliness and Rile’s stern prescriptions on the problem. Rilke’s counsel is to not fear loneliness and see it as a negative, but embrace being alone and celebrate its power. Over and over, Rilke directs Kappus to “Go into yourself.” To “Love your solitude.” To face sadness head on, bathe in it, and be open to what change it can bring. He warns against a stale and consistent life. Rilke instructs us that we, as humans, seek adventure and growth, which often follow hardship.

So you mustn’t be frightened, dear Mr. Kappus, if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloudshadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don’t know what work these conditions are doing inside you.

I don’t know if this brings you any comfort, but here is what Rilke’s writings do for me. One, it reminds me how important it is to seek solace, wisdom, and mentorship from one another. I don’t know what the meaning of life is, but I think it’s somewhere in the vicinity of helping each other. Two, it teaches me that so many of our problems and concerns are not new. The context and language have changed, and obviously our personal circumstances are unique, but our frailties are built into timeless social structures and biology.

Over 100 years ago, artists were as insecure, isolated, and depressed as they are today. Just like the fledgling entrepreneurs and artists who DM me on a daily basis, Kappus was also seeking validation from his OGs, confirming that they saw something in him that he couldn’t clearly see himself. How about that… we attribute so much of our anxiety to modern technology, existential crises, and a polarized society (although these have certainly not helped the situation), but loneliness and disconnection have been part of the human condition since humans have conditioned.

If you’re going through a rough spot and feeling like nobody will be able to relate, you may be right. Perhaps the people closest to you don’t get it. But I guarantee you that someone in the past millennia bled the same blood. And chances are that one of those people is trying to share what they’ve learned with you, in text, in art, in history… I strongly suggest you read poetry (because poets - like musicians - can explain very complicated feelings in simple, beautiful sentences).

As of now, I’m on the side that believes A.I. and tech have the potential to fix loneliness. How can I judge cold technology that sources from human inspiration when throughout my life, I’ve retreated to literature and poetry for guidance. I mean, these authors have been dead for hundreds of years. I’m worshipping ink and paper. There are fewer people living who can encourage and inspire me the way that Rainer Maria Rilke does. As long as I know his words are waiting for me on the shelf, I have a friend. And as long as I cherish the community that flourishes within myself, I know I’m never alone.

I am glad, in a word, that you have overcome the danger of landing in one of those professions, and are solitary and courageous, somewhere in a rugged reality. May the coming year support and strengthen you in that.

1. By the way, if you’ve paid for an upgraded MONOLOGUE subscription, you can join us in the Substack app’s groupchat. And the other day, someone in the chat asked how I research these entries. I do have a research assistant (thanks, Carina!) but I also read a lot. I read so much that sometimes I wish my job was to be a research assistant. I figure so many brilliant minds in history have already done all the hard work and are willing to share their answers with me. Why wouldn’t I borrow their cheat sheet and work through life faster?

2. https://www.publichealth.columbia.edu/public-health-now/news/researchers-call-national-public-health-effort-prevent-loneliness

3. https://www.pewresearch.org/internet/2009/11/04/social-isolation-and-new-technology/

https://ourworldindata.org/loneliness-epidemic

4. I don’t remember how or why it happened, but I took a liking to poetry from an early age. Being into poems isn’t that cool now, so you can imagine what it was like for me back then, stealing moments with Pablo Neruda, Rumi, and Robert Burns between laps of the Judgment Night Soundtrack or a Plan B skate video. My favorite poet then, as remains today, was Rainer Maria Rilke. Rilke was Austrian, wrote in German, and died at the age of 51 in 1925. His poetry was rich and elegant but emotionally charged. When I read Rilke, it’s like riding in the backseat of a lurching hot rod. You know he can drive fast if he wants to, but he’s doing everything he can to not blow out the transmission.

One of our earliest T-shirts was called “To: Music,” and channeled Rilke’s poem by the same name. He begins, “Music: breathing of statues.” That’s the first line! He later calls music, “You heart-space grown out of us.” They say parenting is like watching your heart run around outside of your body. I can see how music appreciation and child rearing go hand in hand. Rilke painted the experience with words.

5. “It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love.”

6. “Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!”