the snow is beautiful, but it can also freeze you to death

nature, is that way

and death, is beautiful.

My cabin, is like heaven

not much living happens there

just existing, and for a time

the writer needs that time

to do his work, but no new pressures enter his mind

and no new creativity happens there—

it’s a void, in time

the conditions are where writing comes from, with not enough time.

I work a job

and get caught-up in the drama

but I never feel the need to escape, so that I can be creative

Creativity, comes from the ability to adapt

to difficult situations

So, writing

is about survival

and I do it, to stay alive.

Conversations kill you, if you don’t know how use them

the elements

lay you bare

if you don’t know how to use tools.

Storms create art

and when I am done, building a fire, I read my stories

on cold nights.

If you find that you are waiting for the conditions to be right

they will never be right

We get meaning from our lives

when we respond to conditions

art is a response

starting a small business is a response

quitting is a response

dying is a response

Becoming something better than the conditions

is a response

I have always grown

when the conditions were bad

and my best philosophies, spring forth

when I have to wade through manure.

When I am overwhelmed by things to do

I relax, because I know what’s important.

If you don’t know, why you survive

the animals that do know, will kill you.

There is always something to do, but only a few things worth doing

People love to get things done

but they don’t know what they are doing.

They have an idea of what they want, but when they try to do it

it’s not what they thought it was.

Survival, is about removing illusions

chipping-away, at stone tools

that cut into reality

like a hunter, drinking

his first cup of blood

cut from the arteries, of his first kill.

When you know you can hunt

and you accept

that you are hunted

ideas pour out of you, like blood

because your nature

is to stay alive

and when that nature turns on itself

it turns against the mother

who gave you life

who taught you, the lessons of death

and if you are willing, nature is willing

the creative act, is that

killing

and knowing, your time will come.