Don’t borrow books—build your library instead and take pride in that. It will be an investment that pays off in the long run. If you see anything that remotely interests you, just buy it. If you don’t get to read it immediately and it piles up, that’s ok. It’s part of building your “anti-library,” or the stack of unread books that will humble you and remind you just how much there is still to learn.
I don’t mean to say that kissing a man for the first time was like crossing into Paradise. It wasn’t. But the exertion of kissing a man was, for me, an athletic feat of Olympic proportion. Some gold medalists say that winning is underwhelming.
All that effort, struggle, self-doubt, and overcoming, for this moment, already over.
But in another way, kissing him was a paradise. Or, rather, the paradise was my increased range of physical and emotional motion: the freedom to move my face close to another man’s, to open my lips, to express this kind of tenderness to a man. A piece of armor around my heart clanked to the ground. I had become strong enough to leave it there.
Information without context is simply gibberish.
You need to be able to see the full picture, understand the connections between disparate facts so you can begin to piece together a deeper meaning to a subject.
Simply reading an article, or seeing a picture with a line or two does not give you the proper knowledge to really understand what’s happening in a situation.
Wisdom is attained when we can hold ourselves back from frivolous statements and take the time and effort to really learn about something, sit back and ponder it all, engage with others in meaningful debate to further our understanding, both internally and externally, and then come to a more complete answer about whatever it is we are thinking about.
sun kissed skin
as you ride me
again and again
as you hit the high notes
of that song that has been sung
since the dawn of Humanity
Gods for more
and I am nothing but a witness
to your beauty
arched back and screaming out
caught in this moment
singed into memory
I sometimes wonder whether we lost or gained more with the advent of the written word and especially our modern obsession with video. We hear tales of the storytellers of old, who wove fantastical worlds out of the air, using just the varied tones of their voices.
Of course, storytellers still exist in the world, in many different forms. But in the past it was common to find traveling storytellers, bards and musicians who kept stories alive for generations, sharing past wisdom and singing of the exploits of heroes and Gods.
It’s a dying art in our modern age, and I imagine we would be losing something precious if it were to cease to exist.
How exciting would it be to have a weary traveler come into your town and simply share the stories he has accumulated over the years, enlightening us all.
Or maybe I am the only one who thinks it would be interesting, such is life.
On most days the thought of getting lost is laced with anxiety and anger, we are a people who have a need for structure and losing ourselves in the world definitely does not fit into that.
But sometimes getting lost is just what we need.
Whether it’s taking a wrong turn and discovering a beautiful spot in a city we have lived in our whole lives and never taken the time to fully explore, or travelling through a new country and just letting the flow take us wherever.
There is a certain magic to routine, it’s generally what helps us achieve big goals, but when we are stuck there is nothing more useful than smashing that routine to pieces and forcing ourselves into uncomfortable situations, a sort of mindfulness practice that pushes us to be in the moment and really allow our subconscious to work through issues without the constant nagging of our conscious mind.
So if you’re feeling unsure of what you need to do, go out and get a little lost, it’ll probably be the best decision you’ve ever made.
“Feeling gratitude for the animals life is a good way to honor it.
Everything we eat, be it a tomato or a chicken, is carrying a light within.
This light feeds us a lot more than the calories or protein, by acknowledging this
light by acknowledging the divinity of everything created by Mother Nature,
we can feed ourselves twice”.
Inspiration is fleeting, a momentary pang of insight.
Real creativity is work.
It’s ink stained fingers tapping along the edges trying to find the rhythm of a word dancing on the tip of your tongue, straining to convince it that a piece of paper is a better place for it to settle on then some weird organ that some cultures think is interesting to eat.
Real creativity is running into that hail of bullets knowing you’re going to come out missing a limb or two, or maybe a friend you’ve known for 10 years.
It’s raw and passionate and fucked up and usually makes you want to smash your face into a brick wall because you’ve been staring at this damn screen for 3 hours and the most you’ve come up with is that Timmy is a loner.
Who the hell names their kid Timmy these days anyway, no one I hope.
There is no magic to creativity.
Most of the best writers and artists are plodding along usually bored out of their minds trying to figure out how to come up with something that won’t make them want to kill themselves after they release it.
It’s a dangerous game, this creativity business and anyone who wants to take part in it has to be ready to slice up their soul into itsy bitsy pieces and put it in the blender and hope to hell that it’s a semi decent smoothie at the end.
So fuck inspiration.
Just do the work.