kill the bitch.
But the bitch is not yet ready to die.
Brava, she says, alone in a small room.
When I’m in writing mode for a novel, I get up at four a.m. and work for five to six hours. In the afternoon, I run for ten kilometers or swim for fifteen hundred meters (or do both), then I read a bit and listen to some music. I go to bed at nine p.m. I keep to this routine every day without variation. The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it’s a form of mesmerism. I mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind. But to hold to such repetition for so long — six months to a year — requires a good amount of mental and physical strength. In that sense, writing a long novel is like survival training. Physical strength is as necessary as artistic sensitivity. —Haruki Murakami
The ancient Mesopotamian goddess Inanna was called “the Queen of Heaven.” Her domains were politics, divine law, love, and fertility. She was a powerhouse. One chapter of her mythic story tells of her descent into the underworld. She was stripped of everything—clothes, titles, weapons—before she could be reborn. Why did she do it? Scholars say she was on a quest for greater knowledge and an expansion of her authority. And she was successful! I propose we make her your guide and companion in the coming weeks, Libra. You are at the tail-end of your own descent. The stripping is almost complete. Soon you will feel the first tremors of return—not loud, not triumphant, but sure. I have faith that your adventures will make you stronger and wiser, as Inanna’s did for her. —Rob Brezsny
Finally Pilate began to take offense. Although she was hampered by huge ignorances, but not in any way unintelligent, when she realized what her situation in the world was and would probably always be she threw away every assumption she had learned and began at zero. First off, she cut her hair. That was one thing she didn’t want to have to think about anymore. Then she tackled the problem of trying to decide how she wanted to live and what was valuable to her. When am I happy and when am I sad and what is the difference? What do I need to know to stay alive? What is true in the world?
―Song of Solomon, Toni Morrison