The training wheels can come off voluntarily, where we throw them aside and soar forward in a joyous blur, or they can be stripped away from our greedy clutches while we wail in agony and bemoan our fates.

IMHO, I end up dealing in luck regardless of how disciplined I am, but if I refuse discipline, I end up dealing in sloth—a slow poison that keeps me from exploration and active self-refinement.

Most people view [warriorship/entrepreneurship/pick your idea of “admirable”] as some beautiful sword to hold up and laud:  “Look at this!  Look how awesome it is!” Then they take a few swipes, lay it down, and occasionally come back to it.  But the truly dedicated will rarely speak of it; in fact, they often tire of that gleaming edge.  But every day, they will hone and refine that blade.  They will practice with it and know its intricacies.  And if you ask them about it, they’ll probably be too damn tired from training to run their mouths.  

That’s the difference between those who talk and those who DO.

IMHO, overcoming inertia is often a matter of overcoming toxic habits.  And that often seems to be a matter of examining myself under a microscope.  

Yep.  Super uncomfortable…but worth it.  

Trying to “intend” your way into producing something is laughable, trying to work your way into producing something is admirable…but doing both?  

That’s formidable.

At the risk of being cheesy…I make the best music when I realize that I’m just an instrument.

Yeah I’m inclined to believe in magic/miracles, but not through rejection of logic.  Nor am I one of those who fixes their hopes solely on structure.  To me it is the discipline and audacity that matters; the constant practice of oiling and sharpening my mind enables me to cut both ways and collapse myself into an infinite wholeness.

IMHO, the poetry of existence is comprised of good and evil, cynicism and belief, low and high…

To me, the act of honing my logic/intuition and then expressing it as best I know how is to tap that ineffable poetry; that transcendent something that people bind to the overloaded word “love.” 

Realizing the futility of chasing [pleasure] and enjoying what’s in front of me is, IMHO, ecstatic.  

It seems that on every single quest to “find myself,” I find myself exactly where I need to be.