1. The hardest fight is the surrender
2. Hope is the conclusion to despair
4. All of life is expansion and contraction. The undulating waves of vibration. You must inhale as a response to the exhale and vice versa. Push and pull. Sex. Birth.
5. Life is active. Living is active. A call and response. Black and White. Heaven and Hell. Yin and Yang. Masculine. Feminine. Define each other exist because of each other.
6. The journey of the soul is to remember. SIR. Home. You are the reward.
But why do we separate? Why? It's not unique, this hiding I did.
Where are we going? What are we? What happens when we die?
Clean your desk/workspace.
Do your BRIGHT homework.
Stephen King was almost killed in some kind of accident involving a car. Ah, yes. He was on a walk and was hit by a car, I think? After he got sober. What a blow on top of that. Having to fully, honestly go through that experience without being able to distance yourself from it. I'm picturing him in a body cast in front of the little desk his wife set up for him to write. He showed up to let his insides out, even in that condition. Because it's necessary for his sanity. Like it is for yours. You just have to put your butt in the chair. In front of the blank page. No need to control what comes out but you do have to let it out and the only way to do that is by sitting in front of an empty page.
Last night I dreamt that Lisa Origliasso of the Veronicas, someone I admire and crush on, was my mentor teacher at Newman for summer camp. There were some light conflicts that I got into with some other counselors-they misunderstood my intentions and twisted my words, interpreting them in a wildly, surprisingly negative way--like Beth has. She felt that her only choice was to fire me. She told me that I needed to go be an artist. That is what I'm meant to do and where my time will be best spent. She said what I want to hear most in the world but not in the way I want to hear it. I got what I wanted by being rejected from something I was doing. Which felt shameful. So I fought it. I begged her, crying, to reconsider. My son's opportunity at camp, money for my family...I was afraid. I also felt like that was an excuse of hers.
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