I’m convinced that we can write and live our own scripts more than most people will acknowledge. I also know the price that must be paid. It’s a real struggle to do it. It requires visualization and affirmation. It involves living a life of integrity, starting with making and keeping promises, until the whole human … Continue reading

The meeting of two personalities

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed. — Carl Gustav Jung

In your light, from Rumi

In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. ~Rumi  

What We Speak

What we speak becomes the house that we live in. — Hafiz, Persian poet

Only the Very Weak-Minded

“Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

A Reminder from Papa Walt

Resist much, obey little. ― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

So even if the hot loneliness is there

“So even if the hot loneliness is there, and for 1.6 seconds we sit with that restlessness when yesterday we couldn’t sit for even one, that’s the journey of the warrior.” ― Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart

The poets are wrong of course.

“The poets are wrong of course […] But then poets are almost always wrong about facts. That’s because they are not really interested in facts: only in truth: which is why the truth they speak is so true that even those who hate poets by simple and natural instinct are exalted and terrified by it.” … Continue reading

On love.

Love should be like breathing. It should be just a quality in you, wherever you are, with whomsoever you are, or even if you are alone, Love goes on overflowing from you. It is not a question of being in Love with someone, it is a question of being Love. Osho  

The body was a cage.

The body was a cage, and inside that cage was something which looked, listened, feared, thought, and marveled; that something, that remainder left over after the body had been accounted for, was the soul.. Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being