why is there even this whole idea that if you “just hand people things” all creativity will cease because nobody will have any motivation to work hard
everybody I’ve ever met has something they would do passionately and well if money wasn’t an issue
the need for money is the bane of creativity
“The basis of most arguments against trans people is that we are not who we say we are, that we are always and only the gender that we were assigned at birth. And so much of that is about having a sense of certainty around gender, that when you were born with a certain set of genitalia, then that must dictate your entire life, and the reality is that that’s not true. A lot of people are not comfortable with that, because then that means they have to begin to question who they are.”- Laverne Cox
It’s important to make friendships that are deeper than gossiping and drinking and smoking and going out.
Make friends who you can go get breakfast with, make friends you can cry with, make friends who support your life goals and believe in you.
These trees have been here much longer than I, have endured many seasons, beheld many cyclists riding by faster than shooting stars too innumerable to count. If I lie here long enough, perhaps they will share their secrets — of gracefully letting go every year what no longer serves them — the leaves who drink happily the sunlight pouring down, who fall with equal grace, delicate, to the ground where they will deteriorate and nourish the soil that surrounds their mother, their Beloved, the Tree of Life, beds of clover at her feet, songbirds nestled in the still hanging leaves. In the shade, we are gathered, caterpillars to lions, bluejays to humans, animals alike, gifted with Life, with feeling. And I feel the urge to grow closer, to merge with it all. Then I remember, there is no separation. And I feel this luminous world alight with the glow of autumn afternoon, pressed against me like a naked body, soft and sloped, grass brushing my skin like long brown hairs strewn over the pillow. A sacred intimacy with which we commune, the trees and I. A wordless language spoken softly in the wind. If I am still, I can hear it clearly. And I feel it too. Love. That is the secret they share.
We don’t have a future together. We only have right here, right now.
To the ego, that’s incredibly depressing. But to recognise the utter preciousness of this moment liberates me from the need to possess or control you. In this timelessness, we truly meet.
Beneath the blushing tree,
I dwelled in satisfaction.
Sunlight touching me,
a mere witness to the magic.
Verdant ferns and crimson leaves,
and azure sky so vast.
The shed dress of all the trees
scattered ‘cross the grass.
I walked yon over the hill
to dip my toes in pond,
but found the water much too chill
so sat beside and donned
a pair of eyes, a pen and pad
to revel in the splendor
Of all the days that I have had
October to remember.