John K King Used and Rare Books in Detroit, Michigan takes the cake. I love bookstores. Can’t get enough of them. Even if I spend all day in one, I can probably revisit that same shop the next day and still have a great time. To me, a bookstore is a worthy alternative to traveling, …
You know the title
No more fear. Fear is a con offered by those who don’t realize they’re peddling it to begin with, there's too much fear so please lead with love No more fear. We can identify a problem But don’t have to lose our head or compassion and respect love spirit If we are the problem Then …
Letters #3 — Unconventional Prose and poetry
It's more than being good with words. To write well, you have to be receptive to the things going on around you and within you. The second part came naturally to me while the first part, the technique, took more time and practice. Quite a few years. I still haven’t perfected it, but eventually I …
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Affirmation #12
My religion is one of my creation pretty sure I am the only member.
Letters #1: On writing
Like just about anything creative, it's a river. Or stepping into one. And once you're in it, you let it take you. You might exert some of your own will onto it but ultimately when things are going best, it's the river that decides. And it speaks through you as well as to you, …
Letters #2: Influences
When you’re starting out you may find that there are many writers and musicians whose work you dig, but I'd keep an eye out for those who really knock your socks off, who make you want to dance naked in the street, howl at the moon and make love to strangers; who, when you read …
The Wake Up
Only Love For me there is only the road. Sometimes I think it's the only real home for me listening to good music and digging every new place I see and all the old places too with the sun in my eyes and above me the moon and the stars. It's a real sweet spot, …
I think I’ll be living in Santa Fe pretty soon
I think I’ll be living in Santa Fe soon picture me walking ‘long a New Mexico road that Pueblo adobe & streetlights of candlit brown paper bags on a winters night me and the moon and You standing before St. Francis cathedral yea I can see it I can see that being my little midnight …
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I write on the backs of napkins
I write on the backs of napkins I write on scraps of tissue paper for you ought to not sweat the fancy jet the time yet, no or the old lessons of propriety don't stack that shelf full of fancy volumes, neither no, don't overload the head with journals with their pages crisp and clean …
On Meditation
I was thinking about Headspace and how it was the real introduction to mediation for me. I think it’s a great app for the beginner, and it does a wonderful job at making something long-considered esoteric more approachable and welcoming. I started in the early Spring of 2016 and I continued meditating consistently for the …
The Prado
Inspiration has many faces, and sometimes it can leave you spellbound to the point that you see no reason to do anything else, because you feel the overwhelming feeling that everything’s been done already. It’s why I’m wary of museums. Of course it’s a matter of perspective, depending on the individual and the choices they …
Lift the Lamp
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JtVSrBRmGQM&feature=youtu.be Music & Lyrics by Ren Michael, Copyright © 2017 As I listen to your wisdom and all the things you hold dear I hear the persistence of your resistance and your fears Though I’m just another daughter, just another son Grown old, grown young, I’m not the only one Well we’ve heard your …
Born or Made
I'm a man deeply suspicious of creative how-to’s. That is, any book that advises me on how to approach anything creative. How to write well. How to act. How to draw. How to sing. I woke up this morning and worked on “The Morning Pages”, a daily writing exercise that demands three pages of whatever …
St. Petersburg
In the wild cathedral evenings On the St. Petersburg canals Near the church at midnight they call 'Spilt Blood' I met a woman singing a song I knew too well She looked at me Her skin stark white a ghost alone, in the dark of the night She smiled at me Her eyes they gleamed …
Ren Michael 