Life is not orderly. No matter how we try to make life so, right in the middle of it we die, lose a leg, fall in love, drop a jar of applesauce.
Trust in what you love, continue to do it, and it will take you where you need to go.
Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down.
When you are present, the world is truly alive.
Sometimes when you think you are done, it is just the edge of beginning. Probably that's why we decide we're done. It's getting too scary. We are touching down onto something real. It is beyond the point when you think you are done that often something strong comes out.
It's the process of writing and life that matters... We are trying to become sane along with our poems and stories.
Talk when you talk, walk when you walk, and die when you die.
Never underestimate people. They do desire the cut of truth.
It is simply that person's time. Ours will come in this lifetime or the next. No matter. Continue to practice.
First thoughts have tremendous energy. The internal censor usually squelches them, so we live in the realm of second and third thoughts, thoughts on thought, twice and three times removed from the direct connection of the first fresh flash.
There is no security, no assurance that because we wrote something good two months ago, we will do it again. Actually, every time we begin, we wonder how we ever did it before.
That's very nice if they want to publish you, but don't pay too much attention to it. It will toss you away. Just continue to write.
