My dear friends & anyone who occasionally dips their toe into the edge of the Atlantic, I wish you peace & joy in the new year.
I believe more poetry, dance, photography, painting, sculpture, theater has the ability to shine a light in the darkness so bright that the darkness will disappear. (oh, and add voting and supporting causes and people who promote joy around the world.)
You are wise enough to understand that being “a little lonely” is not a bad thing. A writer’s occupation is one of the loneliest in the world, even if the loneliness is only an inner solitude and isolation, for that he must have at times if he is to be truly creative. And so I believe only the person who knows and is not afraid of loneliness should aspire to be a writer. But there are also rewards that are rich and peculiarly satisfying. – Rachel Carson
One must have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star. – Nietzsche
In the time of Shakyamuni Buddha, there lived a man in his eighties who had done little about his spiritual life, and so he set out to find the Buddha’s encampment, which he had heard was nearby. Looking like a beggar, old and hopeless, he arrived at the encampment and asked one of the senior monks if he could be accepted into the sangha.
After testing the old man’s attainment, the monk replied, “You are an old man and haven’t done any practice, so there’s no point in giving you teachings now.”
Completely dejected, the old man lay down in front of the door. When the Buddha came by, he asked the old man why he was lying there. The old man told his story, to which the Buddha replied: “Some of my monks don’t realize that just because the body is old, there’s still every reason to practice. All you need is courage and enthusiasm to study and meditate. I know you have insight and the roots of virtue. I will take care of you.”
Guilt is the prosecutor who knows how to make every victim feel like the criminal. She follows the scent of doubt and self-hatred to its sources. She will not tell you what you have done wrong. Her silence is brutal. Her disapproval surrounds you in an envelope of cold nameless terror.
Guilt thinks I am hopelessly lazy because I won’t work the way she does. Her court cases are scheduled years in advance. She says horrible things about me to the neighbors. In self-defense sometimes I tell people what she says about me before she has the chance. I don’t care as much as I did, but I can’t pretend I don’t care at all.
You may recognize Guilt’s footsteps before you see her coming. She limps like a crippled bird. Even though her broken ankle is healing, the wound in her heart has become infected.
Edge of Atlantic 