Stories Can you watch my mistakes? Repeat after me: someone is always watching. Always? Yes always. Even my mistakes? Especially your mistakes. "Mistakes appear to be embarrassing when you look too close, but all they need is a zoom out, to see the bigger picture, to realize losing composure is part of the process."
Poems Featured a mark and the print Your print is taken But a mark That is yours for the making Your print is taken At birth to witness where you were made in Your print is forsaken But a mark is yours in the waking Your print is blatant But a mark is made only in the
Poems composure for two you begin in body I end in mind you lose all composure I stand my ground you lie, awake I lie awake Both lie for the sake of composure.
Poems Left right left right One step, two step It’s a hook I suppose Three step four step It’s a rhythm For the show Five step six step How does it go? Seven step eight step We’ve lost all control We’re in full control? Nine step ten step How does it
Poems Both you and me When I look at you I see me When you look back I see how to be It’s you not me It's me not you Both you and me Can look until we see Neither you nor me Needs reminding That it takes a lifetime to be.
Poems A drop or the ocean a drop or the ocean it's all the same a moment to meet a moment to blame a drop or the ocean you are lying it's not the same how can one have heat and the other be aflame a drop or the ocean you say
Poems to have and to hold To have and to hold From hand to mouth To have and to hold From hand to hand To have and to hold Must be a good man A good man? To have is to hold That is the makeup of man A good man? oh man, oh man To
Stories a bittersweet road There was once a man, slick with words but withdrawn for cash. A special type of being capable of evading the obvious. A gift that granted him access into territory very few had entered. Or ever will. He had a library full of lyrics at his dispense. I was fortunate
all at once She'd search for him in every being, without a question or sound reason she would search for his being, you know, that familiar feeling. Her search stretched until it could go no more, she'd found her feeling. you know, the one she'd equal to
intimacy in action we wrap ourselves around them we express ourselves through them we make them into what we care about we exchange them we treasure them we possess them. We are consumers by nature, but we only learn to create when we can no longer tolerate consumption as the only form of
a wildfire begins The thought of starting a fire you cannot control drops fear into your bones. it crawls up your spine and swings itself into the main room. Before you can say it, A wildfire has begun. although you never asked for it, you gave it permission. the green light to simmer.
Stories 11-digits of unrequited tension I'd only see this member a handful of times, sometimes we'd see each other on the gym floor, always polite, kept to the surface of exchanges. However, one evening he chose to extend himself. Trace the outlines of new grounds. Beyond a tea to go. He
Stories 5-minute tango with chance the last thing I was expecting to do was take a chance. pause in my tracks? tango? absolutely not. that was not on my to do list, not on this Monday morning. But something swayed me to the left, to take my headphones out, pause and tango with chance. chances
on feedback A worthwhile story is like therapy. It is supposed to raise questions, stir something in you, make you feel something. If not, it's too sterile, played safe. Comfortable. We all know you don't go to therapy to half tell how you feel, you go all the
the fine line to walk on Science —–—IMAGINATION Pulled by imagination and led by Science. The line got finer during science class, here an 8-year-olds brain was up to the cortex in questions. it was hard to believe her bubble was being burst, right before her eyes, but it was. Where could she draw the line?
Stories dare to break the ice we'd have never met if I didn't take a new route. as my usual routine involved rushing– running and just about making it on time. This day was different. I had time to walk, savour where I was. We tend to do that, rush to get
Stories The meaning After the 25th poor attempt at wrapping cutlery, I turned to more pressing matters. What does this all mean? is there any meaning to it all? Questions I'd consider only on my evening shifts. it was quiet then, I had space to think. it's you, a
Stories death by over compassion can you actually kill a thing with too much compassion? yes. yes, you can & I did exactly that. I'll show you how so you can avoid the mistake I made. Or copy me, entirely up to you. *** the playground for a 9-year-old girl involved three activities only:
show then tell, always What if you placed equal if not more efforts in building yourself up as you do tearing away the sights you are accustomed to? What would life look like then? The subject of affection is floored with riddles while the crowd can only loom over in awe. It lays grappled
wear your insides out Beauty can hook your attention, but you know what's more interesting? Flaws. Real human flaws. We all have them, yet somewhere along the line, we started leading with the right foot only? forgetting we had a left foot. To tango requires both legs. Otherwise, we hop around a
reset your process Every limb has called me to reset foundations to tear down the processes I've relied on to go deeper start again – re-build. The answers are not lying in the midsts of micro happenings around you or on a screen. they come from a deeper source, a closer connection.
on progression Progression occurs through the doors within yourself opening unblocking breaking The doors are made of nerves, neurons & emotions: Synaptic pruning: Some doors open through the death of nerves, neurons and emotions. Neuroplasticity: Some doors open through the creation of nerves, neurons and emotions. Some are liberating Some are restricting
Stories Thursday at Locker 60 6 am alarmed; it was time to get up. Today was going to be a beautiful day. I had called it. First thing before anything, fling the window open, breathe in the new day. Let your cells know you are alive. Looking out into the dark, snow was falling? I
how many wrongs turn aright? You've been through this before, the line, hook and sink. Caught up in the dazzling lights of false pretence, wrapped in a sweet musical discord. But they stood so far from the crowd, convinced this wrong could be the right one. Ready to jump in. burn all the
