"Stop editing." It's what I tell myself constantly as I write, or speak. I have such an internal editor. I'm an editor, a slicer, a cutter. It stops the stream of consciousness. I stop myself. I stop. The invisible door slams in front of my words or thoughts. I slam the door. I slam. No chance of a stream that flows. What does a free stream of consciousness look like? Feel like? It's a river full of everything. At its mouth, it's a cold dam bursting over with trash and fabric and sand, jumbled questions and scrubbing bubble answers, gasoline and olive oil, body parts and brain matter, war and peace, warm peaches and pomegranates, silk and lambswool, and diamonds. But, it's not until the stream is steady and crystal clear that the diamonds appear, tumbling over the rapids of genius. Through the clear flow, valuable gems appear on the... Read more →

Who Am I? This is one of the big questions I pose every morning as part of my meditation and journaling ritual. Some days the question is the only thing I write down and the only query on which I meditate. It’s a lot to contemplate. Or not. This week as I asked the question, my pen poised over the page, nothing came. It’s not that my mind was blank, it’s that my mind was racing, as happens most days when I start to meditate or gather my thoughts. Can you relate? Mind chatter is non-stop. If it’s not about our to-do list, it’s about a conversation we had or want to have. If it’s not about the email we need to answer, it’s about how we’re judging ourselves. About everything. If it’s not about the ache in our back or knee or shoulder, it’s about the movie we watched... Read more →