What is your Love language?

"Whatever we do, whatever our job, it can be a vessel through which we teach the message of salvation: that the Son of God is innocent, and we are all Sons of God. Kindness to Him transforms the World. We don't necessarily teach this verbally, but rather non-verbally. The problem most people have is that they're more concerned with the mode of their expression than with what they're seeking to express. That's because they don't know what they want to express. This generation, this culture, is full of people who want desperately to write a story, but for all the wrong reasons. I meet people who want to be in the spotlight, but have no idea what they would say if it was pointed at them. This is a fraudulent posture. It means we want the record contract more than the satisfaction of making music. The highest prize we can receive for creative work is the joy of being creative. Creative effort spent for any other reason than the joy of being in that light filled place, love, God, what ever you want to call it, is lacking integrity. It diminishes us. It reduces inspiration to mere sales."

- Marianne Williamson, pg. 201 in "A Return to Love"

I'll wait for you. [Will you wait for me too?]

‎the only person standing in your way is you

Today one of my professors asked me what I was so 'afraid' of, what was holding me back in my work.... I sat in silence, and he said, "I think you're afraid of being successful." I tried to resist the response that swelled inside of me, realizing that he was oh-so-right - but, I couldn't hold back the tears, and without having to ask him to- he hugged me. It's strange how someone else can really hit the nail on the head for you sometimes.

I'm making a commitment: I'm willing to accept success. I'm willing to think and feel differently about my work, and allow my creativity to flow freely. I'm willing to stop making it all about me, and start remembering that I am making art because I want to inspire and uplift others. I will find my humor in art, again - and I will laugh again.

What is forever, anyhow?

Dear Daewoo,

It's been so long since our last correspondence, please dont think i have forgotten about those passionate weeks we spent together. Its just that i caught myself getting too caught up in you and the fantastic and the dreams and the adventures, and i was living in the letters and forgetting to live in the outside world. But, you are still on my mind daily, in my heart forever (and from what ive hear, forever is a long time!) you especially come to the forefront of my mind on those nights I can't master the science of sleep. Ill find myself driving from one side of the state to the other, cause when I can't sleep, and the highways are empty, I like to race to the edge of the horizon line, to finally meet my childhood friend Mr. Moon on the soft spot at the apron of my Mother's driveway (did i ever tell you about Mr. Moon? It is a quite endearing story to hear!), where the cement has cracked from our seasonal weather, dissolving back into original elements, sinking into the place we stole it from. I'm laying at the edge of my childhood home, my face in the sky, my eyes jumping like the stars seem to do when you stare at them too long. Im acknowledging all the constellations above me, letting my imagination play connect the dots with the ones i dont know (kind of like you use to play connect the dots with the freckles on my lower back). I never got to see the sky clearly like this in the city, Not with all the dirtiness: the pollution, and smog, and light (you always said u missed the dark skies of your travels, you hated the city lights so much.)- so to see these light fire balls burning through time to awaken in me this familiar place, feels "special." (special like the time you rescued me from those crook pirates when we sailed through the polynesians, after we recovered the lost journals of your late brother in Atiu) Oh my dear Daewoo, In the midwestern darkness sometimes it feels like you're laying next to me - even though you've never been to this part of the country- and in the singular moment the universe seems to exhale our thoughts simutaneously collide beneath a transparent blanket of stars, and dust, and space junk, and time, and consciousness, and love. Its so infinite, you see? The answers to all the things i struggle to understand about myself, the things that keep me from sleeping, that follow me to my driveway on my night drives, a whole lot of things I never understood seem to be OUT THERE! but from what I heard, it's all "in here" (as in us) too. Soo maybe it's all less complicated than I make it out to be in my head, (you did always laugh at me for making things so damn complicated on myself...), Maybe all this space and time and cracked pavement and inability to forget (you) is really just as simple as the handful of times our parallel lines crossed, those handful of nights we spent wrapped in the blanket of a singular night sky. My darling, my love, my Daewoo, I will count the stars until our love dissolves back, like the sand beneath our feet, into the oceans, where it came from and where it belongs.
Speak to the stars, I will be listening,
BLB 1544

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