You played a song. You made an espresso. The world was ending, but for real this time. There was nothing to do but stay at home. So you journaled, every day, in a way the world could see. Those were the days when things started to feel real. When you journal every day, you have no time to think. You cannot create considered theories of how the world works. You just have to trust the spirit, and make sure your fingers can tap fast enough to meet it.
It’s truthful, writing this way. People are actually attracted to what is truthful; they have just become accustomed to half-truths. Bullshit is an acquired taste, not something innately interesting to our souls. Truthful writing surprises the writer and is unhinging; it makes me nervous because it becomes unclear who is really writing.
Truthful writing transforms. I know that. I have experienced that. When you give the word over to the spirit, there is nothing left to do but hope God takes care of you. Such interdependency needs boldness. You sacrifice a comfortable life for a new life, and there really are no guarantees here.
The spirit does not offer guarantees. It knows things you’ll never know. When you journal every day, divine ignorance is needed, not clever reasoning, which deludes you into feeling like you know things you’ll never know. Release the illusion that this mind knows. The heart laughs at this, lovingly, waiting for you to be more bold.
Remember when you journaled every day? Yes. Do you have the boldness to do that again? …
