There’s a cage I’ve known. For longer than I care to remember now (the archive in the sidebar shows 2004), I’ve questioned why I write. Why I feel like I should. It wasn’t enough just to say what Parker Palmer says in Let Your Life Speak. As young people, we are surrounded by expectations that may have little to do with
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I need a story about failure,” I said to Sheri and the girls as we sat down to a Saturday night dinner of take-out pizza. “Surely you can help me think of something,” I added, laughing. “Should be plenty of material.” But whether they knew something they didn’t want to share, or couldn’t think of anything, no one had an answer.
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This writing thing, it takes so long to learn. Actually, it takes so long to heal and develop better habits. Maybe that’s the nature of making art: it has to make you over first. Sometimes I think I’ve figured something out only to realize I haven’t captured the most important part. Sometimes I think I should be more practical and
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Being real isn’t easy. It isn’t commonly practiced. It isn’t valued. Yet some folks have the idea that it’s becoming too common and we need to be careful about being transparent. They don’t agree we should promote more honesty and openness. Make no mistake, there is a battlefield over vulnerability. “…but once you are real you can’t become unreal again.
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