“When the air begins to turn colder, a warmth grows in my core that says – it’s time to start new.”

Every day we keep telling the same stories. Over and over. We forget that our endings can be different. So can the plot. I think it’s time for some surprise endings.

It might be time. To do that thing. In fact it has been time for a while.

In this culture of winners and losers. Your trauma is your trauma. This is not a measuring contest of pain.

Tell me to calm down. Go ahead. Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me how it actually works. Try to make me feel small and insignificant. But I see you. For the insecure, power clutching man you are. Good luck. You need it.

I am slowly finding my way back into my skin. Or maybe that’s not it. I am growing into a new skin with knowledge and time.

A year ago everything started to change. I didn’t think I could come out on the other side. The view is fine. I’m fine. Better now.

Without authenticity you are nothing.

It’s possible to be all the parts of you that live in your heart, brain, and body. Not divided into containers. A giant messy wait of authenticity. Where you are all the things. All the time.

When you come calling I’ll answer. But I know I have to keep a piece of my heart just for me.

You are the only one I can truly count on.

I have decided that the key to happiness is strong communication.

I breathe better now. I thought I wouldn’t or couldn’t. But I was wrong. Isn’t that how it is with these things.

No. I can’t pretend that everything is the way it was. Even though that’s what we do- move on like everything is okay.

I cannot face another moment of inauthenticity. Not one more day. Saying no to the things that make me uncomfortable in my skin.

A low hum. Vibration when it hits the skin. An image. Permanent art. But the most satisfying part is- the decisive-ness. Decision made.

When I am broken you don’t try to fix me. You listen. You are there. Thankyou.

All human cognition begins with intuitions, proceeds from thence to conceptions, and ends with ideas.

Thinking only begins at the point where we have come to know that Reason, glorified for centuries, is the most obstinate adversary of thinking.

But although all our knowledge begins with experience, it does not follow that it arises from experience.

When I spoke of “beauty”, I was thinking of Rilke’s notion that the beautiful is nothing but the beginning of the terrible, and of Hölderlin’s idea that the beautiful can unite extreme opposites in intimacy.

But, though all our knowledge begins with experience, it by no means follows that all arises out of experience.

Why is it that when the story ends we begin to feel all of it?

The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.

Charity begins at home, and justice begins next door.