Tag Archives: dharma

Good Quotes


(You know you’re a writer when you take a picture of the notes you’re scribbling down while at a writer’s conference because you think your pen looks hella sexy.)       

I’ve had so much great input as of late, from a variety of sources, and have collected a smattering of quotes I’ve penned on whatever papered surface was in my midst. I wasn’t sure what I would do with these quotes, I was simply inspired to pen them down. In the interest of not containing these quotes on paper where only my eyes will glance upon them, I’ve decided to fashion this post and release them into the wild, where they belong.

Quotes from panelists during the Writing at Work conference, which took place at the University of Montana campus on Friday:

“You need to be ready to be rejected over and over and over. If one rejection email is going to crush you, you shouldn’t be a writer.”

“I can’t get too close to my hometown of Cut Bank, Montana – it’s population, elevation, and wind velocity are all the same number: 3,800.”

“Stick with your voice, we’re more capable than we think” and “Put in the time, even when you don’t want to.” – Pete Fromm

“Create occasions you have to rise to.”

“Find the joy in the work” and “I only learn things when I suck at it.” – Sarah Aswell (local comedian and comic writer)

“There’s often a crisis that precipitates inspiration.” – Editor of Beargrass Publications

“No woman writer thinks they have permission to write.”

Random quotes from random sources of inspiration (from songs to films; from books to videos on youtube; from articles to twitter posts):

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Awake at Midnight Thirty

Sooo, this is me awake at midnight thirty, listening to my new favorite musician Ben Howard, the night before my big spoken word show & CD release party. A time when normally I’d have around three hours of slumber under my belt.

It seems I forgot to heed the doc’s warning not to take the steroids prescribed to me for the acute treatment of laryngitis past the hour of 2:00pm.

Welp. I may be running on little to no sleep tomorrow but I should have a voice with which to use for the show, which is kinda important. So there’s that :)

In attempts to combat the pulsing energy of the meds, I’m drinking a cup of herbal tea. The teabag message – tossed overboard like a climbing rope from my mug and currently resting beside my keyboard – reads: You will always live happy if you live with heart. I used to regard teabag messages as rather trite and hokey – but not anymore. We need more positive messages strewn about from teacups the world over. We need em wherever and however we can get em.


Along the thread of messaging, I’ve been making an effort lately to share about my inner workings of fear, centered around the unfolding process of my upcoming show. I think it’s helpful to share this element with others who would otherwise be quick to judge a book by its cover, deeming me as someone who has no qualms whatsoever about getting up on a stage, performing, recording herself in album form, and so on – which is most assuredly not the case.

Earlier today – or, I guess yesterday now technically – I posted this on my personal Facebook page:

With nerves in rising swell preparing for tomorrow night’s big show, the following exchange took place between my husband and I before he went off to work this morning:

Me: Sooo, I’m probably going to be rather a pill until the show tomorrow night. Just sayin. So, I pre-apologize.

Him: What kind of pill?

Me: Like one of those horse pills. The kind that’s unpleasant and hard to swallow.

Him: Mmm mmm.

Me: But if it’s any consolation, I will ALSO practice to infuse some comic relief into the mix, too – so there’s that.

Him: Like a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down?

Me: Sure. Okay. Yeah. Like that.


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Living A Better Life

The Buddha said: If we keep death in front of us, if we are aware of it, we will live better lives.

Last fall, in preparation for a session of walking meditation that our sangha hosted at a local cemetery, I fashioned together a card-sized collage of pictures of friends and family members who’ve passed away, whether recently or many years ago. I continue to use this collage card as a bookmark in my spiral-bound notebook journal, which I write personal account entries in a few times a month. Encountering this bookmark of collaged pictures affords me the ability to practice staying in touch with the preciousness of life, by keeping death in front of me.

At the time of putting the collage together, I also saw fit to include three people who were still alive but nearing the end of their currently held life-cycle: my grandmother Claire, who’s since passed away, and my grandmother Mary and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh, who are both still very much alive. I included these individuals as a practice of deepening my sense of gratitude and also further developing my ever-growing understanding of impermanence.

It’s easy to think that calling to mind our loved ones that have passed away will be too painful. It’s easy to avoid connecting with the memories of our dearly departed friends and family members and to occupy our minds with a cascade of other matters. But when we develop a way to actively practice staying in relationship with those who’ve passed away – with the nature and reality of death itself – the initial pain that will likely crop up for us will have the opportunity to become transformed into a furthering opening of the heart.

At first, and for a little while, it was uncomfortable for me to look at the collage card I put together. To connect with the images and memories of so many loved ones who’ve passed away was rather startling and unsettling. But, once again, everything takes practice. Truly. Now that I’ve been encountering this card – one side collage and one side a picture of my friends David and Alison from their joint memorial service last summer – on a regular, ongoing basis, I’m finding that the discomfort has largely dissipated.

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Early Morning Verses Of A Writer


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To listen in audio form of this post on my podcast:



Silence is enjoying a cup of tea as your sole responsibility.

Silence is what situates itself in the grooves clicking between the movie reel of thought.

Silence is where every end of day settles; and then stretches like a bridge into morning.

Silence is a disposition of character, a grace carried both firm and soft onto the battlefield, turning it to fertile ground.

Silence is anything which serves as a vehicle to transport us back to ourselves in such a way that it’s as though we never left.

Silence reveals truths the likes of which we already know but have forgotten.

Silence is not the absence of sound; it’s the full embodied inclusion of the total acoustic landscape shifting and shaping itself like the Grand Canyon,

shining in holy accord on a bluebird day.



Hello new day.

I see you.

Though, I’m not sure many others do.

Not clearly anyhow.

It’s easy to lose sight,

to go blind.

It’s easy to regard today as being just the same as yesterday;

which will be the same as tomorrow, too.

But I know better.

Today IS a new day!

Ripe with possibilities and opportunities for
goodness & kindness & beauty to manifest.

With our thoughts we make the world.

With our thoughts we make the world.

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Lion’s Roar

Each of us is sifting in a myriad of personality traits and qualities of being.
Hold each one,
however contrasting they may seem to be.
Do not pick and choose which ones
to present to the people.
Do not hide or squelch or push away
those parts you wish were other than as they are.
Hiding does you no good, my dear.
Step into the light.
Step into it all the way.
Do not tow behind you pieces which stay
in the shadows of shame.
Bring fully of yourself to the glory of being human,
from the fluidity of liquids to the hardness of bones.

Life is short and ever-changing.

Absorb these truths like the most fragrant words
offered by your most beloved.
Let them give rise to freedom.


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I find myself wonderfully infused with a wealth of fantastic sources of input over the last few days. I’ve started reading the book pictured above: You Are Now Less Dumb by David McRaney. I watched a really good talk given by an OI member in Thay’s tradition at Google on the nature of self-compassion. And I watched another talk given by someone my husband has been getting into lately, an author, speaker, and neuroscientist named Sam Harris. Three powerhouse gents, I would say. Each one taking his own slant on helping to support the human collective.

From the good to the bad to the ugly, we are each an assembly of the scattered sources of input fused together into one collection we call the self. And it’s easy to forget the importance of closely monitoring what’s coming in through our sense impressions. Because it all matters. Every single drop of it. It all makes a difference in how we show up in life – and how we continue to show up in life.

Here’s an excerpt from the book I mentioned and picture above, which I found so glorious that I read it aloud to both my husband and 18-year-old stepson on separate occasions:

You see, being smart is a much more complicated and misunderstood state than you believe. Most of the time, you are terrible at making sense of things. If it were your job, you would long since have been fired. You think you are a rational agent, slowly contemplating your life before making decisions and choices, and though you may sometimes falter, for the most part you keep it together, but that’s not the case at all. You are always under the influence of irrational reasoning. You persist in a state of deluded deliberation. You are terrible at explaining yourself to yourself, an you are unaware of the depth and breadth of your faults in this regard. You feel quite the opposite, actually. You maintain an unrealistic confidence in your own perceptions even after your limitations are revealed.

David McRaney from You are Now Less Dumb


From OI member Tim Desmond’s talk at Google, published on February 23rd, 2018:

“There’s a capacity that we can develop that allows us to stay human. To be able to stay present. To be able to care and stay connected in whatever situation we find ourselves in.”

He goes on to talk about how this capacity is that of generating mindfulness. Later, he speaks about how we must pair both qualities of compassion and equanimity together, in order to be in balance. Compassion without equanimity leads to burnout and compassion fatigue. Equanimity without compassion leads to lack of empathy and indifference. To pair both together means to say: Whatever is going on is okay, and I’m here for you.

If you’re interested in checking out Tim’s talk:


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Comedic Zone

Last night, I was approaching critical capacity in regards to input coming in and energy going out. My internal meter was nearing the Red Danger Zone (much like the pic shown above), indicating a meltdown was approaching if proper precautions were not taken.

Fortunately, what frequently happens on my particular meter, is that just shy of the meltdown zone there exists a zone where my diligent practice of joy steps in to help mediate the situation and save the day. Let’s call it: the Comedic Zone. This is an area where I begin to see my day as a comedy of errors.

There I was sitting in my stepson’s high school gymnasium last night – after a long day of work and managing of retreat registration logistics, pain levels rising in equal accord with my feelings of exhaustion, waiting for the principal to start the parent meeting to discuss the recent threats made to the school over the past week – only to discover that the flippin zipper on my hoodie was stuck!!!

But instead of becoming unglued, I shook with muffled laughter (ya know, so as not to appear too insane sitting by myself laughing for seemingly no reason).

Whenever I suddenly see life as truly funny stuff, my meter dials back down to the green Smooth Sailing Zone.

Thank goodness for laughter – for the practice of not taking things so seriously – for lightening up – for being able to utilize the practice of mindfulness so as to most skillfully avoid the Red Danger Zones of life.

The practice continues! Full steam ahead!


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