Creativity Asks You To Enter Realms With

I Felt Like I Was Some Kind Of Primitive Spring-loaded Machine, Placed Under Far More Tension Than It Had Ever Been Built To Sustain, About To Blast Apart At Great Danger To Anyone Standing Nearby. I Imagined My Body Parts Flying Off My Torso In Order To Escape The Volcanic Core Of Unhappiness That Had Become: Me.

I Thought About One Of My Favorite Sufi Poems, Which Says That God Long Ago Drew A Circle In The Sand Exactly Around The Spot Where You Are Standing Right Now. I Was Never Not Coming Here. This Was Never Not Going To Happen.

Embrace The Beautiful Mess That You Are.

By Unnerving Definition, Anything That The Heart Has Chosen For Its Own Mysterious Reasons It Can Always Unchoose Later—again, For Its Own Mysterious Reasons.

I Feel Like If I Were To Get Another Tattoo, It Would Probably Be Those Two Words. Just Stubborn, Stubborn, Stubborn Gladness.