“When rules don’t make sense, ask questions, break barriers, rise above it all.”

Time aches- my words break as if they’re the wings of a captured butterfly as if they’re the seconds that keep ticking by as if they’re embers that refuse to ignite.

Misty morning welcomes me as I wander through the trees – calm amidst the chaos of distant memories.

Lost journals are steps back home, like the mending of broken bones, like scars that act as patches to my soul, like the measurement marks on my mother’s wall that show just how much I’ve grown.

Fireside and free, tangled up in curiosity, dripping in holy honesty, drawing in pure ecstasy, exploring possibilities – a cabin in the woods.

I simply cannot hold onto hope, it aches like possibilities never reached, I’m bubbling over with grief – this chaos has caused so much loss and fatigue.

And the world seems just a little bit warmer, and the sun shines slightly brighter than it used to, and the days pass differently than before, and time is no longer stuck in a loop.

I learned all about love from people that didn’t know how to love me.

What do you do, when all the loves you’ve ever known have only been paper moons?

I’m half agony, half hope – like I’m a freshly cut bone, like the last stone that was held – then not thrown, like a garden where inspiration roots but never grows.

Today, cold seeps from my insides out, the frigid rain warm on my skin.

You hold a piece of me I will never get back. Be even tender.

You were refreshing. Your idea of love infused me with hope and joy.

Here I am again, chasing shadows, as if I’m peter pan convincing Wendy not to grow up – I’m waiting for you in the between place. Dreaming and never quite awake.

A wooded winter trail awaits, no footprints pressed upon the snow – a path I dared not once to take but now – I must go.

I chip and carve until I’m a corpse – a bone with no marrow, or a sparrow without wings, a vein without wings, a vein without blood, a puppet with no strings.

Underneath the stars, the weight of living dissolves – releases, breathes, be.

The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea.

As I discovered, there is a great deal of similarity between a boom-bust process in the financial markets and the rise and fall of the Soviet system.

When a long-term trend loses it’s momentum, short-term volatility tends to rise. It is easy to see why that should be so: the trend-following crowd is disoriented.

We shall awaken from our dullness and rise vigorously toward justice. If we fall in love with creation deeper and deeper, we will respond to its endangerment with passion.

Fear arises when we imagine that everything depends on us.

Bull markets go to people’s heads. If you’re a duck on a pond, and it’s rising due to a downpour, you start going up in the world. But you think it’s you, not the pond.

Nothing is more beautiful than the loveliness of the woods before sunrise.

When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive—to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love—then make that day count!