reblogs


Powerful words every true artist needs to contemplate.

visit jess janz.

eb9db27a509ba8523cf30b07969d4187“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the…

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I wonder if society is going too far toward reality leaving little room for healthy imagination to grow? I wonder if the result of becoming too practical is setting us up for unhealthy forms of imagination?

I look upon this heartfelt utterance written by my friend Miriam as a call to celebration. It reminds me of the importance of honoring the ever-elusive golden thread that unites us as writers — one the uninitiated would not understand.

As a right-brained individual, dreams have always pulsated in ways not always easy to comprehend or describe — even to myself. The sensations, though fleeting have been rich and invigorating as they have been hidden and sometimes evasive. It took some time for me to finally sit down and attempt to articulate them one by one.

I never suspected how writing could not only shape my life, but transform it. Getting in tune with my artistic side has been an ambiguous process similar to climbing a precipitous mountain slope — one in which literature and fellow bloggers have been instrumental vessels of inspiration whenever I felt like giving up.

Another Wandering Soul

how i treasure you.

you do not only weave a comfortable blanket around me with your words, thoughts and ideas, you keep the fire in me burning.
every day i see you share my admiration for words… you all use them with care; thoughtfully place them in order to fit your intentions.
i love it.
i love how you inspire me, how you make me laugh, well up, startle me, how you make me uneasy. the whole spectrum of emotions… you present it to me on a daily basis – and i am grateful for your offerings.

thank you.

sincerely,
an admirer

p.s.: because i do not want to make this too sentimental, please insert an inappropriate word of your choice here -> (         )… to lighten the mood. heh.

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sometimes we need to revisit what home felt like… like a fragrance Miriam’s childhood images transport me to a place where the inner child is awakened

Another Wandering Soul

how i miss those days…
when my safety blanket
would chase away my fears;
when my wooden sword
would slay imaginary foes

how i miss those days…
when i was still small enough
to fit into my mothers arms;
when i was still light enough
to ride on my father’s shoulders

how i miss those days…
when a 2-hour-movie
seemed endless;
when a piece of candy
was a near-sacred treasure

how i miss those days.
eyes, innocent and full of wonder
mind, pure and eager to learn

isn’t it time
to revive
what seems long forgotten?
isn’t it time
to let the inner child
come out and play?

innerchild______________________________________________________________

Over at dVerse, Stu invites us to write about what we miss… this is my attempt. Come join us at the Poets Pub!

photo credits: psychologyforliving.blogspot.com

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