Life makes its own meaning day after day. Joseph Campbell knew what people are searching for and it’s not the meaning of life. I want the embodied feeling of being alive. The vitality. This is a greater cause. Still I am driven to write the books I was chosen to write for the world. Lately I feel I am closer to a wholeness of energy, a fullness not unlike tonight’s super full moon. I think it may be a payoff for all the obligations I’ve taken on. It’s an interesting experiment but I have to write the books. Nothing compares to how you feel when you do what you were born to do.
The news cannot inform me anymore. I will avoid it like a beggar won’t let up. It wants and takes and leaves me feeling rather odd and empty. I must protect my heart and strike the ritual down. This is the only headline.
on any depressed day
i depress play
makes a music
I can feel
working my fingers
threading my thoughts
through playing we
I am on a mission to find reality. I won’t find it in my phone or in the dark. I cannot find it alone, nor in a crowded park. I step into my jeans my boots my leather jacket pulled around my hoodie. Here behind the wheel, eyes open and coffee steaming at my lip, waiting for this old train to pass through town, exhaust smoking in the cool morning air. A smile pulls over my face cuz I know I am real with you. Yesterday we ran. Today I’m gonna break out the draft of my book and mark it up somethin’ fierce. What is real? We are. We are real.
this holiday season may you feel part of. not alone. and if you are in pain, what does the pain say to you? give the pain a voice so it can tell you what it needs to go away… then go ahead and give it what it needs because it’s the giving season, honey, it’s what we do!
I was on the yet and thinking of you before we even met, and you let me down when I met you. Beware of bold imagination, I promised myself, before meeting me where I was, the only place I could be, many years after a lifeless rehearsal of life.