[Esp./Eng.] Cartas a un joven poeta: Cuando el silencio personal rompe el estruendo de la manada. || Letters to a Young Poet: When personal silence breaks through the din of the herd.
If you prefer the English version, click on the following link 👉 HERE
Cada año, cuando el calendario anuncia el mes del libro, mi ritual no comienza en las grandes librerías de luces brillantes, sino en el recogimiento de mi propia biblioteca. Es mi forma de celebrar: rescatando un texto que me obligue a mirar hacia adentro antes de salir a buscar novedades las cuales ya habría consultado en línea. Antes, me perdía entre los pasillos de las ferias, buscando siempre esos stands pequeños, casi olvidados, donde los libros de viejo exhalan un aroma a tiempo y a secreto; esos rincones donde la literatura no es una mercancía, sino un encuentro -hoy, por la edad, me quedo en casa-. Fue allí, precisamente, donde hace muchos años llegó a mis manos un ejemplar que, aunque escrito hace casi un siglo, parece haber sido redactado esta mañana para salvarme: Cartas a un joven poeta, de Rainer Maria Rilke. Siempre he sentido una debilidad casi magnética por el género epistolar y la poesía, por esa desnudez del alma que ocurre cuando alguien escribe a otro sin saber que el mundo entero terminará escuchando su confesión.
Cuando el silencio personal rompe el estruendo de la manada
Rilke no solo me marcó; me dio un lenguaje para entender por qué a veces me siento un extraño en medio de las multitudes —en otras publicaciones ya he escrito que desde pequeño me he sentido como un "extraterrestre"—. En un mundo que nos empuja a pertenecer a grupos cerrados, donde el pensamiento crítico se vuelve frágil y se desincentiva el cuestionamiento, sus palabras resuenan como una advertencia: "Ame su soledad y soporte el sufrimiento que ella le causa". Esta idea es revolucionaria hoy, cuando las estructuras sociales nos exigen sumisión a "verdades" absolutas para no ser expulsados del rebaño. A menudo, el precio de la aceptación es la anulación de nuestro análisis individual, generando una dependencia emocional donde el grupo piensa por nosotros, asfixiando la capacidad de asombro y la duda necesaria.
Esa presión grupal suele derivar en una polarización ciega, donde el mundo se divide de forma binaria en "nosotros" y "ellos". Construimos al "otro" como una amenaza, deshumanizando a quien no comparte nuestro sesgo personal. Rilke, con una sabiduría casi profética, nos invita a lo contrario: "Tenga paciencia con todo lo que no se ha resuelto en su corazón e intente amar las preguntas por sí mismas". Solo al reconocer que nuestra visión es apenas un filtro de prejuicios y experiencias, podemos empezar a ver la diversidad no como un peligro, sino como la esencia misma de la vida. Sin embargo, el miedo —ese poderoso pegamento social— se interpone. Tememos al "qué dirán", al castigo de la exclusión, y esa censura interiorizada nos hace callar antes de expresar una nota discordante.
Festival of Literary Diversity (FOLD) es el primer festival de Canadá dedicado exclusivamente a celebrar autores, narradores y voces subrepresentadas, incluyendo escritores negros, indígenas, asiáticos, LGBTQ+ y personas con discapacidad. Se lleva a cabo anualmente en el centro histórico de Brampton, Ontario, generalmente entre abril y mayo.
He visto cómo se utiliza el fenómeno de la "muerte social" o la cancelación para forzar la sumisión. Ignorar al disidente, quitarle la palabra o condenarlo al vacío es una forma de violencia que busca eliminar cualquier influencia fuera de la norma. Ante esta vigilancia mutua que erosiona la confianza, Rilke nos recuerda que lo difícil es, precisamente, lo que debemos abrazar: "Casi todo lo serio es difícil, y todo es serio". Romper con la narrativa dominante requiere una valentía individual que muchos confunden con soberbia, pero que no es otra cosa que integridad. Ser esa "nota discordante" implica estar dispuesto a perder los privilegios de la manada en favor de la libertad interior, entendiendo que la verdadera convivencia social nace del contraste de ideas y no de la uniformidad impuesta.
Semana del libro en la escuela de Matthew.
Si me preguntaran si he conocido personalmente a algún autor, diría que después de leer estas cartas, siento que he tomado café con Rilke en el rincón más silencioso de mi casa. No necesito estrechar la mano de un escritor contemporáneo cuando puedo habitar la mente de alguien que me enseña que "debemos aceptar nuestra existencia de la manera más amplia posible". Pues, defender la libertad de expresión es mucho más que un derecho político-religioso; es una necesidad humana vital. Es el aire que permite que nuestra convivencia no sea una cárcel de espejos, sino un jardín de contrastes. Por eso, mi mayor celebración este mes no es solo leer, sino atreverme a vivir las preguntas, a cuestionar mis propios sesgos y a recordar, con cada página leída, que la libertad comienza justo donde termina el miedo a no encajar.
Cartas a un joven poeta es un libro corto (se lee en una tarde), pero sus ideas suelen quedarse en la cabeza de las personas durante décadas. Y dato curioso, hay una tendencia de usuarios que afirman: uso Hábitos Atómicos para construir mi carrera en HIVE, Sapiens para entender el mercado, y El poder del ahora* para no volverse locos en el proceso —son otros libros que he leído—, pero olvidan lo simple del interior. Gracias a los amigos de @hiveargentina por su llamado El libro que marcó mi vida - Iniciativa Día del Libr y a mi querida amiga @issymarie2 por su invitación y simpática entrada.
Estoy seguro que la amiga @chironga67 y el amigo @silher tendrán una interesante propuesta para esta iniciativa. Espero leer sus entradas.
Portada de la iniciativa...
Dedicado a todos aquellos que, día a día, hacen del mundo un lugar mejor.
Every year, when the calendar marks the month of the book, my ritual does not begin in the large, brightly lit bookshops, but in the quiet of my own library. It is my way of celebrating: by unearthing a book that compels me to look within before heading out to seek out new releases that I would already have looked up online. In the past, I would lose myself in the aisles of book fairs, always seeking out those small, almost forgotten stalls where old books exude a scent of time and secrecy; those corners where literature is not a commodity, but an encounter – today, due to my age, I stay at home. It was there, precisely, that many years ago a copy came into my hands which, though written almost a century ago, seems to have been penned this very morning to save me: Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke. I have always felt an almost magnetic attraction to the epistolary genre and to poetry, to that baring of the soul that occurs when someone writes to another without knowing that the whole world will end up hearing their confession.
When personal silence breaks through the din of the herd
Rilke didn’t just leave a mark on me; he gave me the words to understand why I sometimes feel like a stranger in the midst of crowds—I’ve written in other articles that ever since I was a child I’ve felt like an ‘alien’. In a world that pushes us to belong to closed groups, where critical thinking becomes fragile and questioning is discouraged, his words resonate as a warning: “Love your solitude and bear the suffering it causes you.” This idea is revolutionary today, when social structures demand our submission to absolute “truths” lest we be cast out of the flock. Often, the price of acceptance is the suppression of our individual analysis, creating an emotional dependency where the group thinks for us, stifling our capacity for wonder and necessary doubt.
This peer pressure often leads to blind polarisation, where the world is divided into a binary of ‘us’ and ‘them’. We construct the ‘other’ as a threat, dehumanising anyone who does not share our personal bias. Rilke, with almost prophetic wisdom, invites us to do the opposite: “Be patient with everything that has not yet been resolved in your heart, and try to love the questions for their own sake”. Only by recognising that our vision is merely a filter of prejudices and experiences can we begin to see diversity not as a danger, but as the very essence of life. Yet fear—that powerful social glue—stands in the way. We fear “what people will say”, the punishment of exclusion, and that internalised censorship silences us before we can utter a dissenting note.
The Festival of Literary Diversity (FOLD) is Canada's first festival dedicated exclusively to celebrating underrepresented authors, storytellers, and voices, including Black, Indigenous, Asian, LGBTQ+, and disabled writers. It takes place annually in the historic downtown of Brampton, Ontario, typically between April and May.
I have seen how the phenomenon of ‘social death’ or ‘cancellation’ is used to force submission. Ignoring the dissenter, silencing them or condemning them to oblivion is a form of violence that seeks to eliminate any influence that falls outside the norm. In the face of this mutual surveillance that erodes trust, Rilke reminds us that it is precisely the difficult things we must embrace: “Almost everything serious is difficult, and everything is serious”. Breaking with the dominant narrative requires an individual courage that many mistake for arrogance, but which is nothing other than integrity. Being that “dissonant note” implies being willing to forgo the privileges of the herd in favour of inner freedom, understanding that true social coexistence arises from the contrast of ideas and not from imposed uniformity.
Book Week at Matthew's School.
If I were asked whether I have ever met an author in person, I would say that, having read these letters, I feel as though I have had coffee with Rilke in the quietest corner of my home. I have no need to shake hands with a contemporary writer when I can dwell in the mind of someone who teaches me that “we must accept our existence in the broadest possible sense”. For defending freedom of expression is much more than a political or religious right; it is a vital human necessity. It is the air that allows our coexistence to be not a prison of mirrors, but a garden of contrasts. That is why my greatest celebration this month is not just reading, but daring to live with the questions, to question my own biases and to remember, with every page I read, that freedom begins precisely where the fear of not fitting in ends.
Letters to a Young Poet is a short book (you can read it in an afternoon), but its ideas often stay with people for decades. And here’s an interesting fact: there’s a trend among users who claim: I use Atomic Habits to build my career at HIVE, Sapiens to understand the market, and The Power of Now to keep from going mad in the process — these are other books I’ve read — but they forget the simplicity within. Thanks to my friends at @hiveargentina for their post [The book that shaped my life – Book Day Initiative](https://peakd.com/hive-161447/@ hiveargentina/493af481) and to my dear friend @issymarie2 for her invitation and lovely post.
I’m sure my friends @sacra97 and @castri-ja will have some interesting ideas for this initiative. I look forward to reading their posts.
Cover of the initiative...
🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆+++🔆
Dedicated to all those who, day after day, make the world a better place.
Dedicado a todos aquellos que, día a día, hacen del mundo un lugar mejor.
Every year, when the calendar marks the month of the book, my ritual does not begin in the large, brightly lit bookshops, but in the quiet of my own library. It is my way of celebrating: by unearthing a book that compels me to look within before heading out to seek out new releases that I would already have looked up online. In the past, I would lose myself in the aisles of book fairs, always seeking out those small, almost forgotten stalls where old books exude a scent of time and secrecy; those corners where literature is not a commodity, but an encounter – today, due to my age, I stay at home. It was there, precisely, that many years ago a copy came into my hands which, though written almost a century ago, seems to have been penned this very morning to save me: Letters to a Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke. I have always felt an almost magnetic attraction to the epistolary genre and to poetry, to that baring of the soul that occurs when someone writes to another without knowing that the whole world will end up hearing their confession.
When personal silence breaks through the din of the herd
Rilke didn’t just leave a mark on me; he gave me the words to understand why I sometimes feel like a stranger in the midst of crowds—I’ve written in other articles that ever since I was a child I’ve felt like an ‘alien’. In a world that pushes us to belong to closed groups, where critical thinking becomes fragile and questioning is discouraged, his words resonate as a warning: “Love your solitude and bear the suffering it causes you.” This idea is revolutionary today, when social structures demand our submission to absolute “truths” lest we be cast out of the flock. Often, the price of acceptance is the suppression of our individual analysis, creating an emotional dependency where the group thinks for us, stifling our capacity for wonder and necessary doubt.
This peer pressure often leads to blind polarisation, where the world is divided into a binary of ‘us’ and ‘them’. We construct the ‘other’ as a threat, dehumanising anyone who does not share our personal bias. Rilke, with almost prophetic wisdom, invites us to do the opposite: “Be patient with everything that has not yet been resolved in your heart, and try to love the questions for their own sake”. Only by recognising that our vision is merely a filter of prejudices and experiences can we begin to see diversity not as a danger, but as the very essence of life. Yet fear—that powerful social glue—stands in the way. We fear “what people will say”, the punishment of exclusion, and that internalised censorship silences us before we can utter a dissenting note.
The Festival of Literary Diversity (FOLD) is Canada's first festival dedicated exclusively to celebrating underrepresented authors, storytellers, and voices, including Black, Indigenous, Asian, LGBTQ+, and disabled writers. It takes place annually in the historic downtown of Brampton, Ontario, typically between April and May.
I have seen how the phenomenon of ‘social death’ or ‘cancellation’ is used to force submission. Ignoring the dissenter, silencing them or condemning them to oblivion is a form of violence that seeks to eliminate any influence that falls outside the norm. In the face of this mutual surveillance that erodes trust, Rilke reminds us that it is precisely the difficult things we must embrace: “Almost everything serious is difficult, and everything is serious”. Breaking with the dominant narrative requires an individual courage that many mistake for arrogance, but which is nothing other than integrity. Being that “dissonant note” implies being willing to forgo the privileges of the herd in favour of inner freedom, understanding that true social coexistence arises from the contrast of ideas and not from imposed uniformity.
Book Week at Matthew's School.
If I were asked whether I have ever met an author in person, I would say that, having read these letters, I feel as though I have had coffee with Rilke in the quietest corner of my home. I have no need to shake hands with a contemporary writer when I can dwell in the mind of someone who teaches me that “we must accept our existence in the broadest possible sense”. For defending freedom of expression is much more than a political or religious right; it is a vital human necessity. It is the air that allows our coexistence to be not a prison of mirrors, but a garden of contrasts. That is why my greatest celebration this month is not just reading, but daring to live with the questions, to question my own biases and to remember, with every page I read, that freedom begins precisely where the fear of not fitting in ends.
Letters to a Young Poet is a short book (you can read it in an afternoon), but its ideas often stay with people for decades. And here’s an interesting fact: there’s a trend among users who claim: I use Atomic Habits to build my career at HIVE, Sapiens to understand the market, and The Power of Now to keep from going mad in the process — these are other books I’ve read — but they forget the simplicity within. Thanks to my friends at @hiveargentina for their post [The book that shaped my life – Book Day Initiative](https://peakd.com/hive-161447/@ hiveargentina/493af481) and to my dear friend @issymarie2 for her invitation and lovely post.
I’m sure my friends @sacra97 and @castri-ja will have some interesting ideas for this initiative. I look forward to reading their posts.
Cover of the initiative...
Dedicated to all those who, day after day, make the world a better place.
Dedicated to all those who, day after day, make the world a better place.
Suele ocurrir eso, que de tanto que leemos los libros de nuestro autor o autora favoritos, sentimos que hasta los conocemos en persona.
Y así como te pasa, creo que de cierto modo en algún punto de la vida nos hemos sentido "extraterrestres" ya se por nuestra forma de pensar o actuar.
Por cierto, el autor que nombras no lo conocía, así que me pondré en tarea conocer su obra y leer algún libro aunque sea de manera digital para estar más en sincronía.
Y acá algo curioso que me salto al leer tu publicación.
Uno de los tomos de Papelucho se llama: "Papelucho y el marciano" y colo de niña me sentía Papelucha y te considero mi buen amigo y tu te sentías un extraterrestre=marciano, podría ser que somos el título de ese libro de niños (lo expreso con total respeto).
Jejeje, por lo que veo, esos 12 tomos de Papelucho cubren variados episodios de nuestras vidas —veré si los consigo para leerlos y animar a Matthew a sumergirse en ellos...—.
Otras veces he comentado, que de pequeño y algunas veces de adulto me he sentido de otro mundo, sobre todo al chocar contra la mayoría. Esto me sucede aquí en HIVE, me cuesta encajar —algunos se enojan cuando les comento en sus publicaciones contradiciéndoles—. Pero bueno, así es la vida.
Me agrada que hayas llegado a mi publicación y espero que leas Cartas a un joven poeta, es un corto libro de 30 hojas, se digiere en un día, pero cala durante décadas.
Un abrazo lleno de bendiciones.
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Me encanto leerte, estimado autor... y por supuesto que quiero leer el libro. Me encanta cuando las iniciativas permiten a los autores expresarse y en este caso, conocemos un poco más de ti. Destaco tu forma de expresarte, tan directa y clara.
Gracias por tan sustanciosa entrada y por ser parte de Hive Argentina.
Saludos.
Hola estimada moderadora, las fotos son mías, donde están los niños se encuentra mi hijo Matthew (el pequeño hacia el centro detrás de la niña que tiene la cabeza inclinada).
Gracias por sus palabras. Espero que consiga y lea Cartas a un joven poeta y que luego me comente por esta misma vía.
Un abrazo en la lejanía.
Usualmente, mi experiencia me ha llevado a concluir que esos libros "pocket" que puedes leer en un solo día, son tan contundentes que asustan un poco.
Me intrigó el que nos mencionas ahora, buscaré leerlo.
P.D. También soy extraterrestre, pero aún no determino de cual planeta vengo.
Gracias por participar en nuestra iniciativa del mes.
Bienvenida al Club, jejeje. Hay versiones en formato PDF libres que podrás descargar, pero no hay -para mi gusto-, como tener el libro en tus manos.
Gracias por su visita. Bendiciones.