Broken and Brave, Still We Ride the Waves.
Surviving pain makes us understand, at a visceral level, how tough we are, not in spite of the tenderness we hold inside, but because of it.
Browsing Tag:
broken
The Deliciously Alive, Broken Open Heart.
A deliciously alive, broken open heart is a revolution. And it is what you are for, as a human being. Your torn open and glistening heart is a wild, throbbing portal to aliveness, to living a life with your own freaky artistry. Imagine that.
I’ll Meet You Where the Winds Blow Free.
Meet me in all the parts I do not love about myself, and I will do the same for you, so that you may get on with loving passionately and fiercely the whole of all our parts together.
All Roads Lead to Dot’s House: Why Creativity Sometimes Needs Broken Promises.
If we’d always kept our word, we would have missed out on countless afternoons of fun and quality time with Dot. And now that she’s gone, I am so very grateful we broke promises and didn’t keep to our word.
Authenticity: Inhabiting Wildly Tender Revolution.
Congruent authenticity happens in the guts and bowels of your life. Being authentic is the grunt-work of the soul, of any deeply human, spiritual path. Being half here, half there, halfhearted, faking it to look good, strategizing to make things easier for your self — that’s the common way of ...
Bang the Drum: Elegy for the Grieving. {poetry}
Bang the drum for our sons and daughters, for husbands and wives, mothers and friends.
Shout death’s name to a clueless world. Bang the drum loudly!
Love in grief has a powerful rhythm. Bang the drum with courage and strength!
Bang it loud filled with compassion! Bang the drum proudly!
It Is not the Storm That Slays Me.
I'm the shipwreck that is still throwing down an anchor. Still trying to secure my shattered pieces to something stable. If I can just hold on to something solid, I'll be whole again. I'm told I will get through this, that I'll move past this. Those words are a waterfall that washes over me, ...
The Tale of the Beautifully Broken Maiden. {fiction}
As much as the fair Maiden stumbled and pushed and fought her way against the discomfort, the Knight would wait ever so patiently for her to surrender to the warmth he could, and wanted to, provide. She feared that kind of love, for she had never experienced such pureness. Such patience, coming ...
Dirty Shamana. {book preview}
When forced to meet the people buying my art for thousands of dollars, I felt intensely uncomfortable. They were too clean. Too reserved. Too shiny. Not my people.
The Way I Am. {poetry}
Let me die of heartache and be reborn by the magic of the sea
washed to shore in pieces but stronger than ever before
I’d rather be broken and bloody because the marks left behind will sing of my rebellion