Piece Of Drew Podcast #03 - Static

PIECE OF DREW PODCAST #3 - Static Notes Check o…

An episode of the The Dirt with Drew podcast, hosted by Drew French, titled "Piece Of Drew Podcast #03 - Static" was published on December 2, 2017 and runs 17 minutes.

December 2, 2017 ·17m · The Dirt with Drew

Summary

PIECE OF DREW PODCAST #3 - Static Notes Check out my writing on Medium.com https://medium.com/@drewfrench https://medium.com/@drewfrench/ignore-the-static-to-turn-work-into-play-9b4b0a5fe8d1 This podcast hosted on Soundcloud.com https://soundcloud.com/drew-french-3 An amazing show: 6 Feet Under https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Feet_Under_(TV_series) How do you seperate the wheat from the chaff? “People say nothing is impossible, but I do nothing every day.” ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh https://www.audible.com/pd/Bios-Memoirs/Zen-and-the-Art-of-Motorcycle-Maintenance-Audiobook/B002VA8G6M “The test of the machine is the satisfaction it gives you. There isn't any other test. If the machine produces tranquility it's right. If it disturbs you it's wrong until either the machine or your mind is changed.” ― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values “Examine each question in terms of what is ethically and esthetically right, as well as what is economically expedient. A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise.” -Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac "Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution.” -Albert Einstein “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” ― Anaïs Nin The Diwan of Shams of Tabriz 1823 I don`t get tired of You. Don`t grow weary of being compassionate toward me! All this thirst-equiptment must surely be tired of me, the waterjar, the water-carrier. Show me the way to the Ocean! Break these half-measures, these snall containers. All this fantasy and grief. Let my house be drowned in the wave that rose last night out of the courtyard hidden in the center of my chest . Joseph fell like the moon into my well. The Harvest i expected was washed away. But no matter. A fire has risen above my tombstone hat. I don`t want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music and this dawn and the warmth of your cheek against mine. The grief-armies assemble , but I`m not going with them. This is how it always is when I finish a poem. A Great Silence overcomes me, and I wonder why I ever thought to use language. -Rumi

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