fear no art
Every 100 years or so, an unusual poet with an otherworldly artistic sensitivity comes along to stir a generation with the exact words our tired hearts need in order to remember our story of aliveness and put our old world in a new light. His art feels familiar, necessary, a home to the soul, a ...
These are the ones whose ribcage is a tangle of blackberry vines and whose spine is a bottomless mountain ravine, rushing clear water, icy as snowmelt. The ones with rubies in their teeth and turquoise in their chests, with fingertips that grow into dandelions, and eyelashes into blue jay wings.
So love the process, not the product. Not the outcome. Okay, you should probably love the product and the outcome too. But whether or not you’re a superstar, or barely make a dime from your efforts, just remember what got you fired up to do your thing in the first place.