Desperate Love Is Always The Toughest Way

I Am Burdened With What The Buddhists Call The Monkey Mind. The Thoughts That Swing From Limb To Limb, Stopping Only To Scratch Themselves, Spit And Howl. My Mind Swings Wildly Through Time, Touching On Dozens Of Ideas A Minute, Unharnessed And Undisciplined. You Are, After All, What You Think. Your Emotions Are The Slaves To Your Thoughts, And You Are The Slave To Your Emotions.

Someone Has To Write All Those Stories: Why Not Me?

Your Fear Is Just As Boring As Mine Is. Everyone's Got The Same One. It Is Not Precious. It Is Not Special. It Is Not Singular To You. It's Just The One We All Got Wired With When We Came In. Focus On Your Unique Qualities That Deserve To Be Celebrated And Put Fear Back In Its Place. Don't Listen To It. Onward.

Even In The Worst Tragedies And Crisis, There’s No Reason To Add To Everyone’s Misery By Looking Miserable Yourself.

Prayer Is A Relationship; Half The Job Is Mine. If I Want Transformation, But Can't Even Be Bothered To Articulate What, Exactly, I'm Aiming For, How Will It Ever Occur? Half The Benefit Of Prayer Is In The Asking Itself, In The Offering Of A Clearly Posed And Well-considered Intention. If You Don't Have This, All Your Pleas And Desires Are Boneless, Floppy, Inert; They Swirl At Your Feet In A Cold Fog And Never Lift.