You’ll never have control over other people’s decisions, or what cards life deals you. Your power lies in the choosing of your response. That is the one thing you can control.
To love, we must remove our armor, exposing our heart. For love cannot be had without the risk of being wounded.
I’m a pusher dealing hope, at the intersection of Desire and Despair.
And if we never visit Paris, that’s okay. Your heart is my exotic destination every day.
Even when your heart is blue, I’ll safely hold it. I really don’t mind these indigo-stained hands.
When I was younger, not fitting in felt like a flaw. Now it feels like freedom.
When did your flight plan become a holding pattern, always circling happiness, but never allowed to land? Distracted by in-flight movies, drinks, and snacks, until the fuel runs out. Is this really all there is? Is this what you want out of life?
And if love be madness, may I never find sanity again.
In our world, dear reader, sad and terrible things often happen, though I wish I could tell you otherwise. But strangely wonderful things also occur, and this is the truth that makes life worth living.
What is love, if not two people saving each other from loneliness, and healing each other’s wounds?
We’re all in the human race. The question is, are you running toward your dreams or just away from your fears?
And then I realize the full extent of the insanity. Tiny Cooper has brought me to a Gay-Straight Alliance meeting to hook me up with a girl.
Despair isn’t very productive. That’s the problem with it. Like a replicating virus, all despair can make is more of itself.
Like an expensive painting or a fragile orchid, I thrive only in extremely specific conditions.
We probably didn’t know what we were doing thousands of years ago as we hunted some large mammals to extinction. But we know what we’re doing now. We know how to tread more lightly upon the earth. We could choose to use less energy, eat less meat, clear fewer forests. And we chose not to. As a result, for many forms of life, humanity is the apocalypse.
I remember as a child hearing phrases like “Only the strong survive” and “survival of the fittest” and feeling terrified, because I knew I was neither strong nor fit. I didn’t yet understand that when humanity protects the frail among us, and works to ensure their survival, the human project as a whole gets stronger.
Art is where what we survive survives.
I remember thinking that I would never be a kid again, not really, which was the first time I can recall feeling that intense longing for the you to whom you can never return.
I can only know my pain, and you can only know yours.
Tradition is a way of being with people, not just the people you’re observing the traditions with now, but also all those who’ve ever observed them.