Still I rise by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history 
With your bitter, twisted lies, 
You may tread me in the very dirt 
But still, like dust, I'll rise. 

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells 
Pumping in my living room. 

Just like moons and like suns, 
With the certainty of tides, 
Just like hopes springing high, 
Still I'll rise. 

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops. 
Weakened by my soulful cries. 

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don't you take it awful hard 
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines 
Diggin' in my own back yard. 

You may shoot me with your words, 
You may cut me with your eyes, 
You may kill me with your hatefulness, 
But still, like air, I'll rise. 

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise 
That I dance like I've got diamonds 
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history's shame 
I rise 
Up from a past that's rooted in pain 
I rise 

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, 
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. 
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear 
I rise 
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear 
I rise 

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, 
I am the dream and the hope of the slave. 
I rise 
I rise 
I rise.

If I could write words by Spike Milligan

If I could write words 
Like leaves on an autumn forest floor, 
What a bonfire my letters would make. 

If I could speak words of water, 
You would drown when I said 
'I love you.'

so you want to be a writer? by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

Free and Easy - By Lama Gendun Rinpoche

Happiness cannot be found

through great effort and willpower,

but is already present, in open relaxation and letting go.

Don’t strain yourself,

there is nothing to do or undo.

Whatever momentarily arises in the body-mind

has no real importance at all, has little reality whatsoever.

Why identify with, and become attached to it,

passing judgment upon it and ourselves?

Far better to simply

let the entire game happen on its own,

springing up and falling back like waves—

without changing or manipulating anything—

and notice how everything vanishes and

reappears, magically, again and again,

time without end.

Only our searching for happiness

prevents us from seeing it.

It’s like a vivid rainbow which you pursue without ever catching,

or a dog chasing its own tail.

Although peace and happiness do not exist

as an actual thing or place,

it is always available

and accompanies you every instant.

Don’t believe in the reality

of good and bad experiences;

they are like today’s ephemeral weather,

like rainbows in the sky.

Wanting to grasp the ungraspable,

you exhaust yourself in vain.

As soon as you open and relax this tight fist of grasping,

infinite space is there—open, inviting and comfortable.

Make use of the spaciousness, this freedom and natural ease.

Don’t search any further.

Don’t go into the tangled jungle

looking for the great awakened elephant,

who is already resting quietly at home

in front of your own hearth.

Nothing to do or undo,

nothing to force,

nothing to want,

and nothing missing----

Marvelous!

Everything happens by itself.

She let go - Jennifer Eckert Bernau

Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of fear. 

She let go of judgments. 

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.
She let go of the committee of indecision within her. 

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.
Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice. 

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.
She just let go.
She let go of all the memories that held her back. 

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right. 

She didn’t promise to let go. 

She didn’t journal about it.
She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer. 

She made no public announcement. 

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.
She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go. 

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter. 

She didn’t utter one word.
She just let go.

No one was around when it happened. There was no applause or congratulations.
No one thanked her or praised her. No one noticed a thing.
Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort. There was no struggle. 

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t bad.
It was what it was, and it is just that.
In the space of letting go, she let it all be. 

A small smile came over her face. A light breeze blew through her.

And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

Here’s to giving ourselves the gift of letting go…

There’s only one guru ~ you.

A Ritual to Read to Each Other By William E. Stafford

If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of childhood
storming out to play through the broken dike.

And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should consider
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.

Leave-Taking by Louise Bogan

I do not know where either of us can turn 

Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other. 

I do not know how we can bear 

The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon, 

Or many trees shaken together in the darkness.

We shall wish not to be alone 

And that love were not dispersed and set free

Though you defeat me, 

And I be heavy upon you. 

But like earth heaped over the heart 

Is love grown perfect. 

Like a shell over the beat of life 

Is love perfect to the last. 

So let it be the same 

Whether we turn to the dark or to the kiss of another; 

Let us know this for leavetaking, 

That I may not be heavy upon you, 

That you may blind me no more.