Wednesday, October 29, 2014


It’s so relaxing to sit in the park in the sun, noticing the cool air on my face and listening to the gentle sound of the leaf blowers. There’s this place in my heart that I call my heart, is that what it is, mine? So often I think of something so important that I need to write it down right away, but then when I finally have a chance I just don’t have the energy anymore. Maybe this is my heart, beating, a real estate listing, rain-soaked, illegible. I spend half my time in Seattle trying to leave, I mean half my time in my head, trying to live. The other day I realized that awareness practice I learned where you try to sense into your center, your core, and you ask what’s meaningful, I’m still answering from my head. If my head isn’t my heart then I’m in trouble. I mean I’m in trouble. If leaving is a kind of living, then maybe thinking about leaving is living too. Sometimes I don’t know what will feel better

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