looking over old journals yesterday, and seeing that the things i value and desire haven’t changed much over the years:
to give voice to the things that matter, and never to be hectored when choosing silence.to continue to have new ideas of your own, to write well, and to scalpel away excess.
to be unflichingly honest about the work. to grow an architectonic imagination.
to have lasting connections, warm circles of friends, long meandering conversations � both facetious and meaningful � late into the night. sharing good food, elegant teas, improbably beautiful flowers (o isabella stewart gardner!)
to have long uninterrupted solitude and quiet too — that is unimaginably important.
to seek the gleaming untravelled world, to enter the realm of the uncanny often, but to have the heart-reviving solace of home too, and long rest.
to be nourished in purpose and wit, to know the appetite for knowledge is always fed: challenging classes, inspiring teachers and peers (a joy, to know you will always have people whose intellect and talent dazzle, and to think of such people as examples, not exemplars.)
to love wholeheartedly, not to fear hurt, but also to dare to admit when love is ended. to have emotional courage in facing yourself and others, to know how to be decent to others, and not to hurt them or yourself.
to have the spirit to endure, and to suffer too, when necessary.
Best of the Transparent Hummingbird