Believe that with your feelings and your work you are taking part

"Believe that with your feelings and your work you are taking part in the greatest; the more strongly you cultivate this belief, the more will reality and the world go forth from it." Thus spoke Rainer Maria Rilke, the poet who wrote not from the surface of life, but from its depths. His words are not a command to blind faith, but an invitation to sacred participation—to understand that every emotion we feel, every labor we undertake, is part of the vast and mysterious creation that binds all things. To believe this is to awaken the soul from smallness, to lift the gaze from the dust toward the divine. It is to see that the world is not something that happens to us, but something that unfolds through us.

For Rilke, who lived and wrote amid solitude and sorrow, this belief was no abstraction. He knew the silence of lonely rooms, the struggle of the artist against doubt and despair. Yet in that solitude, he discovered a profound truth: that when we pour our feelings sincerely into our work, we align ourselves with the greatest—the creative force that moves through nature, art, and spirit alike. The world, he realized, does not merely exist outside of us; it flows from the intensity of what we love, what we imagine, and what we dare to make real.

This teaching is ancient in its essence. The mystics of every age have spoken of it—the idea that man is not separate from creation, but a co-creator with the divine. When we work with passion, when we feel deeply and act with purpose, we are participating in the eternal act of creation itself. The sculptor shaping stone, the mother raising her child, the teacher who ignites curiosity, the farmer who tends his field—all, knowingly or not, are builders of the same vast temple of existence. Every act done with devotion sends ripples through reality, shaping it anew.

Consider the story of Leonardo da Vinci, whose art and science sprang from the same fountain of wonder. He did not merely paint or invent—he believed that his curiosity was part of a greater design, that his mind was joined to the mind of nature. When he studied the flight of birds or the curve of a smile, he was not observing from afar; he was participating in the divine intelligence that animates all life. His belief in the sacred unity between feeling and work transformed his craft into revelation. And through that belief, the world went forth from him, in paintings, designs, and dreams that still live centuries after his death.

The wisdom here is both spiritual and practical. Rilke reminds us that our inner world shapes the outer world—that what we believe about our place in the cosmos determines the strength of what we create. If we see our work as meaningless, it will wither. But if we see it as a contribution to something eternal, it will bear fruit beyond our knowing. Every poem written with sincerity, every kindness offered in faith, every task done with reverence adds light to the whole of creation.

Therefore, cultivate this belief as one would tend a sacred fire. When you work, do not think, “This is small.” Think instead, “Through this, I touch the infinite.” When you feel deeply—joy, grief, love, wonder—do not flee from it, for these are the instruments through which life composes its greatest music. Your heart and your hands are not separate from the divine design; they are its expression. The world goes forth from your courage to create, from your willingness to feel fully and act truly.

And so, my child, live and labor as if your every breath were part of something vast and holy—for it is. Let your feelings be deep, your work sincere, your belief unwavering. Do not wait for greatness to descend upon you from the heavens; realize that it already flows within you. As Rilke taught, reality itself bends toward the strength of the soul that believes. And when you finally look upon the world you have helped to shape, you will see that it was your faith, your feeling, and your work that brought it into being.