Ink and Coffee

One thing you who had secure or happy childhoods should understand about those of us who did not. We who control our feelings, who avoid conflicts at all costs, or seem to seek them. Who are hypersensitive, self-critical, compulsive, workaholic, and above all survivors. We are not that way from perversity, and we cannot just relax and let it go. We’ve learned to cope in ways you never had to.

I don’t have a goal, because existence has no goal. It simply is, flowering, blossoming, dancing… an overflow of energy, for no reason at all. I am with existence.

Loving people live in a loving world. Hostile people live in a hostile world. Same world.

Never regret. If it’s good, it’s wonderful. If it’s bad it’s experience.

One of the hardest decisions you’ll ever face in life is choosing whether to walk away or try harder.

As human beings we are all the same. We have this marvelous intelligence, which sometimes creates problems for us, but when influenced by warm-heartedness can be very constructive. In this context we need to appreciate the value of having moral principles.

Trust the one who can see these three things in you: sorrow behind your smile, love behind your anger and meaning behind your silence.

Love is the beginning and it is the end. And when love was born we discovered how our lives are nothing unless we have it, share it, and take care of it. Love is the reason for eerything. Keep love alive and live the true meaning of what God wants for us all.

It is said that each time we embrace someone warmly, we gain an extra day of life. So please embrace me now.

The world is not divided between East and West. You are American. I am Iranian, we don’t know each other, but we talk and we understand each other perfectly. The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you.
And our governements are very much the same.

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

…Thus, by nature’s own decree,
The hard and the strong are defeated,
Whilst the soft and gentle are triumphant.

Dear Human:
You’ve got it alllll wrong. You didn’t come here to master unconditional love. That is where you cam from and where you’ll return. You came here to learn personal love. Universal love. Messy love. Sweaty love. Crazy love. Broken love. Whole love. Infused with divinity. Lived through the grace of stumbling. Demonstrated through the beauty of messing up. Often. You didn’t come here to be perfect. You already are. You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulours. And then to rise again into remembering.

For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.