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Keep going

We are all looking for meaning, for something to set us on fire and keep us lit, bright and hot and immune to the wind.

This is why we look for love, why we fall in love, and why we run from it when it comes too close. We are all searching for that hair’s width of perfection, the breath between running away and running towards.

I have a memory of a warm place, many years ago, where for one moment I was walking towards my life, and my life was walking towards me. It couldn’t last, but in that sweet, brief moment I was perfection. I held myself still beneath the sun, an excruciating balance of wanting and receiving, until my legs gave out and my heart lost the beat.

Sometimes now, when I should be sleeping, and when the world feels flat, I unfold that memory and hold it to my face, hoping it still holds the scent of sweet heartache I can inhale, and dreading the day that I might breathe in nothing but the past, dry and powdered and unchangeable.

We all keep trying, for what else is there to do? Keep going. It is on the wind and it is waiting for you. And there are sweet memories to be made today.

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WRITING

You Are Brave, Too

Lately, I find I am very afraid. Now, more than ever, the world seems like a scary place, and I feel too frightened for creativity, for adventures, or for dreams.

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WRITING

The Next Big Thing

When you’re ready for the next big thing, your unconscious can bring it to your attention in some scary ways. Anger, jealousy, desire, crazy energetic bursts: they’re all here. And the question that we always ask ourselves, is how to move from the uncomfortable FEELING to the satisfied DOING?

Maybe that’s the wrong question.

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WRITING

Fear, Black Holes and Woody Allen

This is going to be one of those times when I write a bunch of stuff that maybe I shouldn’t. And I wouldn’t, except I think maybe it’s important for you to hear. So here goes.

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WRITING

Imaginary Lives

It’s Monday morning, and most of us probably wish we were somewhere else.

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WRITING

Getting Messy

The past few years have been a tumultuous time for me. I would hesitate to call it a “rough patch” or a “dark period,” though truthfully it has been those things at times. I’ve been diving deep into the shadows of myself, wrestling with them, accepting them, slowly but surely giving the world a glimpse of the things I’ve kept hidden for so long, for fear I would be judged unworthy. And in the light of day and within the warm space that opens from completely emptying one’s self, I’ve come out the other side, broken and reassembled, cleansed and infinitely freer.