Wait, until you hear this.

Hot tears, love affairs and broken mirrors.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ A trip to the snow country Hot tears, love affairs and broken mirrors --------------------------------------------------------------- Tomorrow, I'm releasing [Wonderland](=). It's the second single from my upcoming spoken-word album. Could you please do me a huge favor? [Click here](=) and pre-save the poem. This helps ensure it will find your ears the moment it's released. --------------------------------------------------------------- ​[Snow Country]( by Yasunari Kawabata is a novel about a Japanese businessman who loses his shit once a year, flees Tokyo and heads north to the mountains to hole up in an isolated town built beside a hot spring. "Shimamura, who lived a life of idleness, found that he tended to lose his honesty with himself, and he frequently went out alone into the mountains to recover something of it." On one such visit, he meets this geisha by the name of Komako––who I picture in my head resembling Lady Mariko in Shōgun––and the pair cuddle and fuck the winter away. Upstate New York has become something of my Snow Country these past six months. While I haven't gotten tangled up in a steamy love affair, I have been making a lot of art. Because I spent the holidays out in California, I'm enjoying the prolonged winter here––it refuses to surrender to spring. I woke this morning to a thin dusting of snow. It reminded me of the pumpkin bunt cake my mother made growing up. She'd unearth it from the oven, turn it right side up on a serving tray and out would fall a giant golden-brown donut. She would then sprinkle the top of the cake with powdered sugar. Writing this now, I feel a bit saddened by the memory, very aware of the passing of time. The people are kind and the pace is slow here. It's a good place to take your time making sense of things. Last weekend––prior to driving Upstate––I walked through Washington Square Park. I sat on a bench there and turned my coffee over in my hands like a hot stone. It was a difficult few days. If I told you about them, I'm not sure you'd believe me and even then, I'm not entirely sure you would understand. While seated on the bench, my throat started to hurt and my eyes felt hot so I pulled on a pair of sunglasses to give my emotions plenty of room to stretch out without being seen. I killed my phone and then watched a schizophrenic man feed handfuls of seed to a hundred or so pigeons. He directed them with his hands as if they were a fleet of 747s and he an Air traffic controller. When the pigeons would take flight, they looked like shards of glass bursting in the air. They reminded me of something I had read in Kaveh Akbar's gorgeous book [Martyr!](​ Centuries ago, Iranian explorers traveled to France and Italy where they witnessed, for the first time, mirrors. They returned to Iran and told the Shah of these magnificent pieces of glass that showed a man his own image. Intrigued, the Shah demanded they purchase as many as they could get their hands on. These explorers did as the Shah asked, spending a small fortune on every mirror they could find in Europe. Unfortunately, by the time the mirrors arrived at the Shah's doorstep, they were in billions of tiny pieces. It was here where the Shah did something extraordinary. He saw there was something beautiful that could be made of the broken pieces and asked his artists to construct breath-taking mosaics, tombs and shrines out of the shards. I have yet to find a better metaphor for art. By [Cole Schafer](​ P.S. If you haven't yet, listen to my first single [Somewhere](=). --------------------------------------------------------------- For Sale: Pretty Words Your brand doesn't have to sound like shit "You know it's ART, when the check clears." – Andy Warhol When I'm not reciting spoken-word poems, I run a creative writing shop called [Honey Copy](=). To pay the bills, I write pretty words for brands that make their soon-to-be customers trip over themselves like it’s 1954 and Marilyn Monroe just stepped over a subway grate. If you're a brand in need of copy that reads like poetry... [DROP ME A LINE.](=) --------------------------------------------------------------- Meraki. Meraki. Meraki. Repeat it aloud until you believe it ​ There is a reason your grandmother's recipes never taste the same when you make them. It's because there is a transfer of energy happening that her recipes can't account for. Love is an invisible force that has as dramatic of an effect on the work we create as skill and process. The Greek word for this is Meraki. It means to leave a piece of yourself behind in your work. It can be something of a mantra for anyone striving to pack grandmotherly love into their art. When tempted to cut corners, compare yourself to others or obsess over the wrong metrics (likes, followers and engagement), just repeat the word Meraki aloud. Remind yourself of the true intention behind your work: Love. [MORE DAILY MUSINGS]( --------------------------------------------------------------- [[linkedin]​]() ​ [Update your email preferences]( or unsubscribe [here](​ © 2024 The Process 113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205