guts and bones


Any act of a creative nature takes guts.


Creation comes from the same place inside everyone; the place where yearning and dreams and pain and love and inner machinations of all kinds reside.


So when you make contact with this place and fish hook it out to transform it, make beauty out of it or simply give it meaning, you are being one brave motherfucker.


Your heart- quite literally- on the line.


This is not to say that every cake you bake or every thing you make is going to nurse such a level of magnitude, but when you are delivering something from the gleaming waters of what you love, you are baring yourself to the world.



There is always a great chance that when you expose yourself and what you stand for, yearn for or break for, you will not be understood by the world.


Making peace with this takes the gutsiest motherfuckers of all.



Archaeologists rejoice when they brush bare new found bones. Evidence that a certain life was lived on this shell. Unique stories, passions, fears and tragedies, all magic and all mundane, hung on these bones.


The quickening, the creative reflex within you is yours and yours alone.


Regardless of whether you share what it makes, laying bare your bones, or whether or not we understand it, makes no difference to the truth.


What goes on between you and your heart is as instrumental in your being upright as are the bones beneath your flesh.


Living would hurt so much more without it.


And all that transpires between you and the sacred in moments of creativity and mad love is yours- not ours- and so very eternal.


So don’t be perturbed by us. Show us the guts and tenderness that brought you here. Or don’t.


But you should be aware, most of us know good bones when we see them.