For me, writing is akin to breathing. I can stop anytime I want...for short periods of time...but while I live it is something I must do, something I do naturally and without thinking.
I've had this phrase swirling around my brain for years now and had intended to get it translated into Gaelic and have it tattooed. But for some reason I never did that. I realize now why that was. It's because it was incomplete. And because Gaelic is the wrong language to use...I should use English. The now-completed phrase? "On the journey of life, follow your heart - dance to it's music, heed it's wisdom, be comforted by it's love."
People spend their lives in search of a treasure that exists within them every moment of every day.
My destiny is a montage of images in front of my eyes, made up of my experiences and insights. A film that only I can see, omens that only I can interpret.
The creation of perfection eludes me.
Until I realize that it is folly
to attempt to create perfection
in an imperfect world.
Imperfection is, in itself,
beautifully perfect.
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