in honour of the fact that life is short: ecstatic sex, quitting, and wearing your best

wear your white shirts. get them pressed.

use your good dishes -- everyday.

shave on weekends.

do not wait for special occasions.

do not tuck your best away in the drawers, in the back of the closet, in your heart.

don't wait for holidays or invitations.

declare that your today is the special occasion.

call instead of emailing. (it feels so good to connect.)

go for coffee.

quit.

take care of it.

renounce your glory days. you've told all of those stories more than twice.

focus forward.

wear perfume for yourself. toss your only-wear-around-the-house clothes and let your good clothes graduate to around-the-house status.

intend to feel good all of the time.

write your book.

launch.

make ecstatic sex a priority. (this deliberateness will make you more creative, productive and generally gracious. on your death bed, you will think about all the amazing sex you had this lifetime.)

burn your to-do list.

write poetry. one a day.

make a point to be as encouraging as possible, as much as possible, to everyone possible.

don't look back.

if you feel like you're always failing, consider that this is part of being an artist. let it be a divine inclination. keep going.

enter.

leave.

eat real food.

often refuse to be in the presence of people who make you feel repressed, anxious, or pull your frequency down.

do not entertain haters.

send light to the haters.

give it away. you probably don't need it and someone else does.

turn off the tv.

let it be easy.

burn candles. during the day.

fall in love. with yourself. with the person you're with. with the persons in your orbit.

because no one is perfect, but you can let the love be perfect for the both of you.

because everyone -- everyone -- is a doorway to God.

because you can get there from here.

because life is short.