peanut man

I went back to the old place, I found my heart again (not that I had lost it, but it had stay buried beneath efforts to stay content for awhile). Passion, heart, ganas, whatever you want to call it—is more reliable than you would think. (Gut, on the other hand, is not.) Instincts are not always impulses. We are not stalwart creatures, we were not built to last. But our hearts? Strong beyond measure.

I must remember to seek out discomfort, to throw myself into the fire, to be unafraid, to cry and laugh as often as possible. People are always telling us to "play it safe." To ensure survival of who we are, who we might be. I disagree. Simply surviving, my friends, is no way to live.