Inspirational quotations on life and writing

10 quotes for writers and lovers and speakers of truth

Those who know me well (or even a little) know that words are my drug of choice. They are the rush and the heat and the grief and the sex and the connection and the disassociation and the mother and the wolf and the deepest and truest heart of me. It is in the words that I find meaning and give meaning. It is inside the words that I birth myself. Inside of the lines I untangle the ways to define and name and understand. They are my way in and my way out. They are both the map and …

stay awake with me by jeanette leblanc

stay awake with me {the story of a broken heart & the open road}

{some stories write themselves. in a rush, fingers and thoughts and words tumbling over one another almost faster than you can capture. some stories are stubborn, held tight, refusing to come to light no matter how hard you push. still others come easy, like water flows, but only if you respect their timeline, and allow them to be born on their own terms.  this is one of those stories. of a weekend lived over a year ago. a weekend that saved me} Enough. No more. Get in the car. Now. Go. Your boundaries have been violated. Your trust shaken. It is …

15 things to do on your 39th birthday - by Jeanette LeBlanc

15 things do when you wake up on your 39th birthday.

{Time now, it flies by. The days and months and years blend into one another. The words seem to take a backseat more than they should. This post was written on October 8th – my 39th birthday. It was a response to my post from last year, when the morning of my birthday found me desolate and heartbroken and questioning everything. As time rushes by and the days blur to months blur to another year past – I found myself wondering at all that can happen in the span of a year. And instead of waking up sad, I was merely …

all the ways that we break by jeanette leblanc

All the ways that we break

Here I sit. In my coffee shop. The one with the rough brick walls and the shadowed light and the rooms that I weave through as if I was at home. Here, I am at home.  I am always and never at home.  The rain is coming down outside. Hammering onto this parched desert soil with a force that makes windows turn waterfall and employees frantically try to block the flow of water rushing in under the double doors in front of me. People walk in – drenched – plastic bags hastily pulled over heads. The scattered few who listened …

the simple pleasures of small things by jeanette leblanc

These are small things and large things and really, they are everything.

Fingers stained with ink from a fountain pen that leaks but that cannot be replaced because the ink stains are part of the magic. Candles on stones carried from the sea on both coasts. The one rock found on the beach that day, all twenty pounds of it. Hugged across the chest and carried on the long walk home, until arms and shoulders ached. Even though they said it couldn’t be taken on the plane, that this was silly. And how it was clear that this flat stone would be one of the ways the ocean could be made real in the …

"Even the deepest silence carries its own sweet wisdom" Jeanette LeBlanc

Even The Deepest Silence Carries Its Own Sweet Wisdom

In any life there is a time to speak – clear and strong and true. Hours and minutes when your voice will be the only thing that can deliver you through to what comes next. When coming clean is the grace that serves and saves. When you must unleash your truest story and stand tall and true in the aftermath. But in any life there is also a time to keep quiet, spaces for words that have not yet found their fullness, or where the speaking of them would bring hurt that would serve no purpose. There are times when …

beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself

holding up your heart under the wide open moon.

  “When my heart feels so much, I need you to help it. You are the one who knows hearts. “ “I don’t know that I know hearts. I just believe in them. “ We are on the freeway, spinning toward home under a wide-open moon.   A plane is coming in, fast and low. This night the strain between us takes more room in the cab of the truck than our bodies do. The plane passes over; so close I swear that if I reached up in just the right way the frame of the truck would dissolve into nothing …

in the end you only have your heart

Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.

You, lover, are so very beautiful. I know you don’t think so. I know you stand each morning, lift your face to the mirror and wage silent war on the skin and bones that hold you in this life. I know you do because I do too. But you are beautiful. You are beautiful because of your unrelenting insistence on being utterly, uncompromisingly, completely you. Even when it hurts. Even when it’s the hardest thing. You are beautiful because you’re still here. Loving and laughing and bleeding and fighting and falling soft at the end of the day, into whatever …

badass with a side of sacred wisdom by jeanette leblanc

embers of grace and grit {a love letter for driftwood hearts}

Dear you. I know you. I know you wear your heart on your sleeve.  I know that heart is pieced together from soft driftwood and tattered suitcases and old skeleton keys and the shards of pottery you’ve tucked in your pockets from all the things you’ve seen break along your journey. I know your soul glitters with the fragments of love affairs and fiery passion and endless nights of candlelight and whispers against bare skin.  I know you hear the echoes of long gone trains and feel the pulse of memory reminding you of things you’ve not encountered in this …

our stories are where the revolution begins.  peacelovefree.com

Unlock it, Poet {our stories are where the revolution begins}

Look at you, beauty Sitting so quietly I see you there The way the light hits your face The way the wind filters through your hair How the curve of your neck is the definition of grace How your story lingers just beneath the surface. I know you have things to say. Things you must say Didn’t anyone ever tell you, That we have to speak our truths Our stories are where the revolution begins. So, unlock it, poet Let loose the words Unconstrain your endless restraint Seduce your muse Release your wild Welcome this rebellion Usher it inside Sit …