"I can’t handle the silence."
Never have such words been so deafening to my ears.
Seated on the couch, this came out as we gently prodded our friend about coping mechanisms. Our conversation had budded from talk of suicide...
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writings for the empty cup
"I can’t handle the silence."
Never have such words been so deafening to my ears.
Seated on the couch, this came out as we gently prodded our friend about coping mechanisms. Our conversation had budded from talk of suicide...
Read morePinocchio. George Washington and the cherry tree. The boy who cried wolf. Many stories exist to tell of the perils of lying and the beautiful purity of truth. These tales tend to present Truth as a fairly simple duality—right over wrong, good conquering evil—but as we age, the complexities and conditional aspects of this realm make themselves...
Read moreOne of the first aspects of meditation I was introduced to is that it can be taken anywhere and practiced at any moment. But over my first few months of consistent practice, I developed an increasing aversion to finding new spaces in which to meditate. I had my ideal space at home dedicated to my practice, which felt like enough when I considered...
Read moreEven when my mind is open, my focus is centered, and my body is still, my hands feel the agitated need to move.
Read moreBy taking my seat and searching for stillness, I was coming face to face with my biggest critic, my inner bully, my reluctant companion: myself.
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