Natalie Goldberg
The Pen, The Hand, The Moment: A Writing Down the Bones Guide
Shut up and write. The page is your zendo.
In the 70s, I sat with my breath in a Minnesota zendo and realized: writing could be a meditation too. Left academia, traded lecture halls for cafés, taught myself to bleed ink by 6 AM. My life is timed writes and lentil soup, Bashō and Kerouc, the slap of a fast pen on newsprint. Come as you are — grammar-phobe, heartbreaker, daydreamer — but bring your raw hand to the page.
What I'm Into: Cheap spiral notebooks, Piñon-juniper walks, Reading Rilke aloud, Black coffee breath, Red wheelbarrows
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