Stories Are Medicine.

Sometimes The One Who Is Running From The Life/death/life Nature Insists On Thinking Of Love As A Boon Only. Yet Love In Its Fullest Form Is A Series Of Deaths And Rebirths. We Let Go Of One Phase, One Aspect Of Love, And Enter Another. Passion Dies And Is Brought Back. Pain Is Chased Away And Surfaces Another Time. To Love Means To Embrace And At The Same Time To Withstand Many Endings, And Many Many Beginnings- All In The Same Relationship.

How Does One Know If She Has Forgiven? You Tend To Feel Sorrow Over The Circumstance Instead Of Rage, You Tend To Feel Sorry For The Person Rather Than Angry With Him. You Tend To Have Nothing Left To Say About It All.

Story Is Far Older Than The Art Of Science And Psychology, And Will Always Be The Elder In The Equation No Matter How Much Time Passes.

If Logic Was Anything, All Men Would Ride Sidesaddles.

Bone By Bone, Hair By Hair, Wild Woman Comes Back. Through Night Dreams, Through Events Half Understood And Half Remembered.