What shall we do with all the suffering that goes on, but make some art? Wring the pain from inside our bones and distill ourselves some sacred ink, some holy watercolor, where upon the blankness that is tomorrow we spell some poetic fantasy, some painting of the inside of our soul… The Dreaming has a flipside, which one must master, too: to be able to breathe the harsher air, for when one is in the heights, it is rarefied and cold, clawing you as you inhale it. And is it worth it? Friend, if all there was was the pain, it would be well worth it. Cherish the experience of you growing stronger. Shrink not from the test. For even this, even calamity, is a gift.
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