"In each of us there is another whom we do not know." Carl Jung You must write every day to save your life. if you do not, your mind will get the best of you. You will think these dark thoughts. You will fall into such despair. You will give up. You are not an…
Tag: writing
A Journey of Beliefs Pt. 1
Universal Stories Belief and meaning, (and it is by believing that we derive meaning and discovering meaning that further deepens our beliefs) play a significant role in the continuous development of the human at the psychological and spiritual level. We, ideally, focus our beliefs on honorable virtues and values without becoming too puritanical or too…
love, enough
[fiction short] An hour before I am supposed to leave, I start crying. I've had that fluttery, controlling, rigidity-soaked fear for two days now, and underneath that there are always two forms of grief - the actual grief, which hurts, and the tender grief about being so hard on myself, that the New Age Buddhists call radical…
Squeaky Clean
I can remember the first time I felt truly clean, and I think I went off and wrote a poem about waterfalls and the color blue. Nerd. I was trying my best to express what it meant, that feeling of a freshly scrubbed inner space. Like linens washed in lavender water, or what I imagine a…
To Thine Own Self, Be True AF
My guess is that if Shakespeare were alive today, he'd be all about not giving a fuck what others thought. (You know, in the healthy, anti-codependent, non-sociopathic way.) Let me declare, just to gain even more credibility here, that I used to be sort of obsessed with astrology. Give me a break, I was fifteen. And though I…
I’m Serious!
You might not believe this, but I used to take myself very seriously. If you had suffered the way I had, well, then you would not be laughing at my tears. (Or drinking them, like Jessica Valenti.) I mean, my mom told me I was bad at soccer! My dad was too busy working to hug…
Lovers
I come to see, in the gasp between our love making, when there’s nothing there, when the emptiness is so full I forget to like my pain - that mean fathers produce truth tellers, lovers who gaze lost, seeking, us deep in the earth, with eyes hopeful like a child’s eyes, wet and glistening, arriving…
Layers
the anger is thick, deep, it is like a crust, molded and beginning to stink, for so long it has festered, I’ve tended to it like a garden, conjuring thorns, weeds, a swarm of insects, I have seemed to like it– but it’s the emergence of grief that breaks through, the tenderness that cuts it,…
A Full Life 