Abstraction is itself an abstract word and has no single meaning ... Every word in our language is abstract, because it represents something else.

If we had the consciousness of a cat or a dog, we would have it in us to become perfect Zen masters. We could gnaw on a bone, take a nap, play with a spider until we killed it, get our litter just right, and be innocently and serenely present. Meaning would mean nothing to us, nor would we need it to mean anything. We would be free, and we would be spared. But, we are human beings, and we posses that odd duck – human consciousness.

Almost nothing beautiful or brilliant happens unless a person has thought about it a lot.

A long, deep breath is the equivalent of a full stop and the key to centering.

Your chances of creating deeply hinge on the quality of your awareness state.

You honor your writing space by recovering, if you are an addict. You honor your writing space by becoming an anxiety expert, a real pro at mindfulness and personal calming. You honor your writing space by affirming that you matter, that your writing life matters, and that your current writing project matters. You honor your writing space by entering it with this mantra: “I am ready to work.” You enter, grow quiet, and vanish into your writing.

An artist must struggle to accept the shape of this universe - and achieve some important successes.