Journal on Gratitude

I am grateful to be here again today.  I am grateful to be sitting at my desk, which used to be my Dad’s desk, writing about life.  I am grateful to pick a different color pen every day.

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Journal on Sharing

My fear of disrupting the flow or not being able to maintain my harmony with it keeps me from jumping in, which means I never do. There is no perfect or perfectly timed way to begin this harmonizing. It has to be done by experience, by feel.

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Joy = Perfection

Perfection is not limited by precision or conformity to some standard or preconceived definition. If you try to make a perfect circle or sing a perfectly uniform tone or have perfect skin, you will fail. Perfection is not how you perform or how smoothly things run or how accurately you can measure things. Perfection is the joy you feel. For whatever reason. Joy, joy, joy!

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1991

I did it to myself
Buried evidence in my flesh
Sang no more, denying music
At least a decade of numb decay
Spent dying of security

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Quietly Wild

Behind me wreckage lies
Before me cinders fly

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The Scary Stuff

I pay lip service to taking care of myself, but I don’t really do it. I pretend that I’m taking enough breaks and giving myself time to relax, but I’m not really doing either. I compulsively take responsibility for too much because I believe no one else can. I believe I have to step up, because that’s what responsible people do. And that belief is slowly killing me.

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