Life is a series of choices, this we know. We chose to try, we chose to be passionate or willful, we choose to be satisfied or dissatisfied... we chose many things and sometimes we can even chose when we die. We are the authors of our own stories, sometimes we are great, successful writers with lots of wonderful stories to tell. Sometimes we aren't so great and can't barely lift pen to page... but we, regardless of hope or health, are the authors. We chose when each chapter begins and when each chapter ends and we decide how they read. Some of us deny that this is factual or will throw semantics into it but, regardless of faith and regardless of denial, we write and we chose whether to write well or to just barely get the words out.
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As artists we wake up every morning willing to put ourselves out there… taking the seeds of our soul and turning them into the flowers we share with the world. Not everyone likes your particular flower but someone else will see it, buy it and treasure it. The point isn’t to further career but to further ourselves… So what if not everyone likes what you make, be passionate anyway. It’s incredible how time, energy and effort can change the landscape of life.
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