w r t t n d f f r n t - Eternity Project

the project journal

jon-insta

the photo gram

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#Writing is relationship, like the level of self-c

#Writing is relationship, like the level of self-care you shower yourself with reflects how the words pour onto the page, or if ideas are rejected before transmission, then writing is a bigger struggle. Yes, you’re often your only cheerleader, so champion yourself with every word.

Have a wonderful weekend full of love.

Have a wonderful weekend full of love.

Tying your mind down, chilly weather has its perks

Tying your mind down, chilly weather has its perks. Giving your #creativity cabin fever so it will produce for you what it’s able that under the temptation to fly away for the day, would not. Always somewhere, but really nowhere, a cozy write locks you in to squeeze productivity.

May your #words be always somewhere holding someon

May your #words be always somewhere holding someone together just how they may need. Perfect for their moment, even if yours is never now. Someone, somewhere will have a time with your publication. It’s a vision beyond grabbing for attention on the wave of a trend. You. Timeless.

Today is the day. To have a nice seat and watch yo

Today is the day. To have a nice seat and watch your mind clear like the placid clear lake stored inside you. The other side, never more visible as it is now and all the content unfolding just like it should. You’re a #writer at work and you know #writing is the only work you love.

Have a look at my struggles. We aren’t much diff

Have a look at my struggles. We aren’t much different.

#writersofinstagram

#writingcommunity

A creator’s maladie: the space between genius an

A creator’s maladie: the space between genius and madness. The doorway, slim. The line, blurred. The cure to live between, possible. In the end, a difference is only an artistic rendering of human plight, unbalanced and teetering on the brink. The psychic pain of the edge, acute.

#streetphotography

Not so important what it is, just that it is. And

Not so important what it is, just that it is. And the movement starts another movement which may grow into ideas worth feeding that move into shared thoughts. So, don’t overthink at first what it should be because it becomes what it’s meant to be, but not if it’s never begun.

Because you are too strong to cave under the const

Because you are too strong to cave under the constant duress of life. And you stand up under the debilitation that would have you at the throat and, sitting down with a new sentence, you fight back in, literally, the most meaningful way possible. You. Are. A. Mighty. Word.

In a brilliant moment, you know a great #write is

In a brilliant moment, you know a great #write is accepted, never contrived. A gift, organic. Not a bloating of your talent, but a moment that, for you, arrived unannounced and invented against the force of your mind, it wasn’t, for it was part of you before it landed on the page.

A cup filled with possibility not over what has be

A cup filled with possibility not over what has been or what could have been, but a pausing that lifts up instead of looking for misery. Hovering and drawing power from energy that’s abundantly strong. Sips for the soul that feed your #writing life and opens your eyes to success.

We r all Living with missing pieces. And, someti

We r all
Living with missing pieces.

And, sometimes, what we create is:

[ W r r t n
B r k n ]

Would You happen to have a link for me, to connect a dot.
Between the space between? Where I can see and where I have become blind.

And please find a small beauty in my big ugly.

✈️ We all, like momentary minimalists, rush ba

✈️ We all, like momentary minimalists, rush back to a life with more. Suffocating excess. Crushed in the safe arms of choice. When, deep down, we know less means more of a valuable existence. A life of constant revision leads to a writer’s optimization, with a delete key nearby.

Longhand— ✏️ Because “deliberate” words

Longhand—

✏️ Because “deliberate” words are worth the time. A pen in the hand becomes a tool.

✏️ Because permeance. Sentences seem to weigh more on paper. Less lost, even if worthless.

✏️ Because tactically it’s ugly on here and that’s perfectly OK. These are words, not AI.

Trust. Like birds serenading one another from casc

Trust. Like birds serenading one another from cascading branches upon trees which dance to and from their long-lasting trunks. Registering pieces of songs from across a block, they respond and communicate. Unseen, the song alone moving them to become a part of the morning chorus.

The hustle and bustle intrudes upon a once open la

The hustle and bustle intrudes upon a once open landing space for #thoughts not all put together yet. Hostile to creativity, a thought life, tossed aside, doesn’t allow new ideas to tour the world. The vehicle, broken down. Tenderness becoming gruff. A setting aside, impractical.

Yes, the mind must have something pushing against

Yes, the mind must have something pushing against it in order to get somewhere and, so, a lack of transformation results from a lack of steady resistance. As if swimming with the current increases strength and, while gaining comfortability, life hands you non intrinsic rewards.

All of life, a missed connection. Dial tones, dron

All of life, a missed connection. Dial tones, droning. Everyone a stranger and, at a confluence where strangers gather, you notice all the differences in others you long to appreciate, but know nothing about and it becomes clear the mystery of otherness, for us, is exponential.

Warmest embrace reviving my lonely heart and drivi

Warmest embrace reviving my lonely heart and driving, piece by piece, a departing of all perceptions which view unwarranted solitude. With you, just around me, all the world crumbling and still you prop me up. What need I have except to know that I am no one unless I am with you.

Yes, coping with life makes each day drag on and o

Yes, coping with life makes each day drag on and on. You don’t see any life in the day, only drudgery. Getting up from under blankets makes less sense and the pain of simple things, which you believe others find humorous, is like death to you. And so life begins to mean little.

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