I’m sitting here in front of a blank screen being egged on by an insistent voice that I write. I keep telling it that I don’t know what to write. Just do it, it says. “I can’t!” I yell back. I hear Sarah in that voice: pouty, not yet aware of her abilities. Okay, I’ll write, but this decision is my own! Even though this spirit is insistent. The old
Can someone tell me how to enter a blog so that the bottoms of all those letters that like to go below the line won't be cut off? I've been struggling with this and it's frustrating! Thanks,
I try, first, to clear my mind. It’s an old habit from my Zen meditation training. But then ensues a tug and pull, while I dismiss the random thoughts which come into the empty mind at the same time that I check them for any related meaning to my current life path. I’m after a focused intention after all. One sentence that captures where I’m at, or what I’m after
Rocks are neither brighter nor more stupid than us, it’s just that they have different interests. A rock’s interest lies with the center of the earth. A rock will never learn our language, move on its own, or be curious about something else when its interest lies entirely, devotionally, uni-dimensionally on one state, and one state only: to reach the center of the e
My husband want me to be his conselor. I would be flattered except I know that with every confession roots would grow, sever, force themselves, break the earth while they bind, suffocate the ground and deprive the relationship of breath. I like to breathe free, especially around him. We struggle to free ourselves from eachother, fighting the instincts to bind
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