Quotes About Flow

On writer's block: The word block suggests that you are constipated or stuck, when the truth is that you're empty.

There is flow everywhere in nature—glaciers are just rivers that are moving really, really slowly—so how could there not be flow in each of

Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation, while writing needs to breathe and move.

Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance. T. S. ELIOT

Don't try harder—resist less." This

So I'd start writing without reining myself in. It was almost just typing, just making my fingers move. And the writing would be terrible.

What release to write so that one forgets oneself, forgets one's companion, forgets where one is or what one is going to do next--to be drenched in work as one is drenched in sleep or the sea.

One cannot dance well unless one is completely in time with the music, not leaning back to the last step or pressing forward to the next one, but poised directly on the present step as it comes.

Time can tick when there is no clock.

as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.

She had learnt a painful lesson, she thought – that as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.

The silent ebb and flow of life without change seemed deadly to me.

Your words flow over me like warm water. They bring me comfort. I hunger for your images. I hunger for all you might say.

Things don't really go in a straight line the way living people think. Everything is always happening all the time.

The real adventure, he thought, is the flow of time; it's as much adventure as anyone could wish.

It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on a shelf continues to whisper to itself its own inexhaustible tale.

Flung is too harsh a word for the rush of the world. Blown is more like it, but blown by a generous, unending breath.

Experiencing the present purely is being emptied and hollow; you catch the grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall.

We worry that we're not in the right emotional moment to do our work. And mostly, we give away our agency, begging someone, anyone, to do the hard part of summoning the muse or getting us approval or a gig or support so that we can maybe, just maybe, feel the light again. It's a trap. Flow is the result of effort. The muse shows up when we do the work. Not the other way around. Set up your tools, turn off the internet, and go back to work.

If we condition ourselves to work without flow, it's more likely to arrive.

Fretting about time's passing will not slow it down one whit.

The Atharva Veda points out that the quest for awareness, the search for answers, the journey towards self-realization, never ceases: How does the wind not cease to blow? How does the mind take no repose? Why do the waters, seeking to reach the truth, Never at any time cease to flow? —Atharva Veda, X.7.3731

How does the wind not cease to blow? How does the mind take no repose? Why do the waters, seeking to reach the truth, Never at any time cease to flow? —Atharva Veda, X.7.37

How long have you been here? (Jericho) Don't know. Again, tried to count once, got depressed so I stopped. I find it easier to just go with the flow. Ease with the peas. (Asmodeus) Ease with the peas? (Jericho) Yeah, that's not a happy memory, either. Let's forget I mentioned it. (Asmodeus)