To write from a safe place, to nurture and to listen are the greatest lessons I can share. Storytelling starts with an idea, a perspective, a memory, an observation, an opinion and a healthy dose of imagination. Writing, good writing begins with the most honest, painful, sincere, sensual, scary and absurd memories. Stellar writing must start from a sacred place of truth, examining both the dark and the light. Women today
A DESCENT AND ASCENT INTO MADNESS A decade ago I made a commitment to myself and a promise if I could write my deepest, darkest truths, fears, and wildest dreams on the page, I might have a shot at surviving the depths of hell I was living. THE RED BENCH essentially became a one-hundred-plus-page creative exploration, and the purest stream of consciousness, and the most essential tool in my survival
Time moves fast separating the then from the now What if I imagined a palm tree pause?There’s a place beyond the palms where the wind blows hot Where the sunshine is warm and sweetSavor the good fortuneDon’t sweat the small detailsLife is not supposed to feel only goodOr only badIt’s over in less than a minuteDon’t blink or you might miss itThe pink grains of miniscule seashells wash up on shore Sands of
A label cannot define the sublime essence of youIt means little if not nothing when you’re navigating the unique journey exclusive to you Sensitive sweet smart kind inquisitiveThose are not labels but words with depth and meaning All the ways you’re seen thus farYouth is a magical mystical time and a strange place to find your footingPlease don’t believe the world is so shallow so small it can define youBut it will
I Am Adam Lanza, Dec. 14, 2012 A decade ago I lived a frivolous, spoiled, privileged life. An International fashion model, I worked in more countries than I can count. Freedom was something I took for granted, until the earth fell from under me and my whole world shattered. My first psychotic breakdown took away everything I knew to be true and buried me whole. The paranoia, delusions of grandeur, mania,
I often wonder if I have enough faith to navigate my way in the world. I’m pretty sure I don’t. It’s the stubbornness that keeps me here, keeps me hurtling forward, running too fast to ever actually slow down. To just be. I’m a runner, I get that. I’m not in denial, pretending to be a different me. Have you ever stepped foot inside a temple of worship, and truly
I see how the majority lives. Kids dying in the streets, devastation runs amok, earth’s temperatures off-key, disaster abounds, the homeless discarded, the invisible caged, wailing migrants. I don’t want to be part of the blind percent. I’m awake with a heavy heart. Maybe I should take a happy pill, or drink the cool aid and blur the ugly vision. I will not. I refuse to sugar coat the words
Behind every face, there is a story of despair and of strength. Behind every face, there is a tear of joy, and regret. Behind every face, there are dark caverns of shame, desperately seeking out the light. To wash over the pain, to wash over the fear, and to wash away the doubt and dramedy that fill the day. Twenty-four hours does not seem like enough time to cleanse, renew,
What matters in these troubled times is that you look up and out and around and make something beautiful. Spill your guts, break your heart and then dig a little deeper. Jump into love. Inside the blues, inside the scary, safe nurturing walls of purple rain, you’ll find a Prince’s truth. It ain’t always pretty, but it’s always relatable. We are all tragic, wonderfully broken pieces, with smashed hearts and
There are a few things I know now by trial and error, when attention comes your way embrace it. Be brave enough to embrace and enjoy five minutes of some kind of fucked up fame, to be seen through the camera lens even while it steals a piece of your vulnerable heart and sacred soul. It’s okay to try on different versions, experimenting behind platinum blond and a fuck you,