This isn't about Art

Diving deep into one's inner workings is a noble, if discomforting, endeavour.
Not to mention a journey without  a destination.
Goals be damned!

Sitting with one's feelings as they come up is admirable.
In practice? It's hard.
Sometimes, insufferable.

It takes all my power ... mind, spirit, body... not to distract. To continue to sit in this primordial swamp letting what comes up, come up.

Look. Listen. Let go.

So. Hard.

Trying to remember that the best way out is through when all around lies sludge made up of tears and broken dreams. That the Universe has something even better.

But I have to let go first.

So. Fucking. Hard.

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