Must I _____?

Fill in the blank with what you do

Franz stared at the letter that had been sent back to him. He chewed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, letting what he’d just read percolate.

While Franz had just joined military school as a cadet, he also loved writing poetry. He knew of a Mr. Rilke who, like him, had joined the army. However, he ended up leaving and becoming a writer.

Seeing that Mr. Rilke had walked a path that seemed akin to the one he was on, Franz wrote to him for advice. He asked him whether his poetry was any good and which path he should take.

This is the response Mr. Rilke wrote:

No one can advise or help you — no one. There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write?

This correspondence did happen: Mr. Rilke is none other than the famous 19th century poet, Rainer Maria Rilke. The young cadet was Franz Kappus.

Between the years of 1902 and 1908, Kappus and Rilke exchanged a total of 10 letters. They not only discussed life choices, but also the beauty of nature and art, as well as philosophical and existential questions.

In the end, Kappus ended up spending 15 years in the Austro-Hungarian army, writing a variety of different pieces in different styles. He didn’t achieve any notable fame.

It’s ironic that the most enduring piece about Kappus was one that he published as an afterthought (after Rilke died) in these letters.

Fast forward to now…

Isn’t it fascinating that over 110 years later, nothing has changed? We’re still lost and searching for meaning in our lives.

While we might not be enlisted in the military, we’re at a fork in the road in our life, not dissimilar to Kappus.

His decision to continue his studies in the army and do poetry “on the side” is neither good, nor bad. It is what it is.

Even if he were to have walked the path that Rilke did, there is no guarantee that he would have been as successful as Rilke was.

The only thing that’s guaranteed is that he would have been able to dedicate 100% of his focus to something that he enjoyed.

Here’s looking at you, kid

Like him, most of us are doing side projects, half hoping that they would suddenly burst forth with luscious fruit.

We slave away at our jobs, dreaming of the day we can break away and live a life of romance and unbridled creativity.

We trap ourselves in a cage we construct with society’s notions, craving “security” and the familiar. Yet a part of us is always looking to express who we really are.

We ask ourselves:

Must I write?

Must I sing?

Must I draw?

Must I dance?

Must I build?

And we say, “no, I don’t have to.”

So we keep up this slow cadence, 80% of our days living the mundane, 20% dreaming dreams and creating something special we can call our own.

All the while, the tension builds. As each day comes and goes, a speck of us is lost to the ravages of time. Like Chinese water torture, we’re slowly driven to the brink as we see what’s coming and let it happen.

There is one important difference:

We can free ourselves.

We aren’t shackled or chained down. For most of us reading this, freedom is a birthright.

Yes, we have mortgages and children. We have responsibilities and expectations. We have people to please and enemies to make an example of.

But physically, what’s stopping us from doing whatever we want to do?

So do yourself a favor:

“…ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I _____?”

Fill in the blank and answer:

“Yes.”