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Am I allowed to dream? If all I ever did was dream about what my future would be like, I wouldn't be focusing on my present life, which creates my future.
Quite often these days a kind of synergy permeates the session, and the pieces start to be in conversation with one another.
How can sadness and beauty go together like this?
All of us across this vast world, billions of us, flying in formation as one humanity. And we think we’re alone!
We can only spin narratives for so long before they become overworked and threadbare.
What if I release my vice grip on all that I cared about? Stop choking it with my crushing concern?
It’s not about grammar rules. It’s about beauty sourced at the wellspring of the soul. No refining, no polishing, just aliveness.
Your internal critic is brilliant—because you are. Empty silence is one of its favorite platforms.
Is it enough? No. I feel compelled to keep going, to clear the rocks from the river of my intentions, the river of what I must do.