Tonight I felt like I needed some healing, sometimes our inner child needs it: Give it the attention it deserves when no one back then recognized it‘s pain.
Tonight I felt like I needed some healing, sometimes our inner child needs it: Give it the attention it deserves when no one back then recognized it‘s pain.
I spent a gorgeous evening on the front porch after moving our deck furniture there today. It's the perfect reading/writing nook for the season. (Yes, I should have done this ages ago since the set took a beating from the full sun hitting our open deck.)
This book is going to take awhile, which is fine. Good probably as it's a book of exercises designed to be cathartic and practice mindfulness in writing.
"Poetry is the language of human emotion. It is air and fire and water and soil. Poetry is the breath in our lungs. The sighs. The stutters... Poetry is hunger. The words hanging in the space between... The journey. The story. Running and laughing. Laughing and running. Poetry is the might of one person, and the echo of billions. Our survival is poetry. Our lives are poetry. the final act is writing it down."