I naturally prefer the company of people who hold grudges, as long as they are not held against me.
Trying to reason with an addict was like trying to blow out a lightbulb.
Try looking at your mind as a wayward puppy that you are trying to paper train. You don’t drop-kick a puppy into the neighbor’s yard every time it piddles on the floor. You just keep bringing it back to the newspaper.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking, this snaggly faith of mine, or maybe it’s Miles Davis saying, Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there.
You don’t always have to chop with the sword of truth. You can point with it too.
This is a very violent place to live, the Earth, and we’re a very violent species. Cain is still killing Abel. We see that every day.
When we agree to being part of something bigger than our own wired, fixated minds, we are saved.
Frequently, as so many poets and psalmists and songwriters have said, the invisible shift happens through the broken places.
I go to church every Sunday, which is like going to the gas station once a week and really, really filling up.
If you have a body, you are entitled to the full range of feelings. It comes with the package.
You have to make mistakes to find out who you aren’t. You take the action, and the insight follows: You don’t think your way into becoming yourself.
We all know we’re going to die; what’s important is the kind of men and women we are in the face of this.
The movement of grace toward gratitude brings us from the package of self-obsessed madness to a spiritual awakening.
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
Radical self-care is what we’ve been longing for, desperate for, our entire lives-friendship with our own hearts.
Small is how blessings, healing, progress and increase occur.
We write to expose the unexposed. If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. The writer’s job is to turn the unspeakable into words – not just into any words, but if we can, into rhythm and blues.
I am going to notice the lights of the earth, the sun and the moon and the stars, the lights of our candles as we march, the lights with which spring teases us, the light that is already present.
Honesty is not necessarily interesting. I don’t want to hear about your dreams or your acid trips, probably unless you make them really interesting.
My mind is a neighborhood I try not to go into alone.