“I realize that I am now doing nothing but fulfilling dreams, nothing but materializing images, using my will to make all my desires tangible. Of course, I never dreamed all that I am doing. When I was younger I imagined my dancing, my writing and marriage, though not quite like the real one, which surpasses the conceptions of a child.  

My imagination has been my lamp. I have only to desire wisely and intensely, and with my will, to fulfill. Is this an illusion, a conceit of my will’s power, so newly discovered that perhaps it has intoxicated me? It is so new for me to have an active will after years of merely imaginary activity. Even last year, walking down Montparnesse, I asked myself what could happen if suddenly I said and did exactly what I wanted to say and do. I foresaw cataclysms. Yet I tried it. And the result? Nobody hurt—a few scandalized; more, pleased and proud; even more, influenced and enlivened by my activity.  

Every day I feel surer of myself, my desires soar higher. I feel power in myself, conviction. If it is conceit, a vast empty bubble of vanity, an illusion as false as my old modesty was false; if I am deceived intellectually, by the fireworks of my life, if its ascension is the ascension of self-glory; if there is no spiritual value and philosophical significance to my life, then there is no truth and no sincerity in this world, because no woman ever looked down into herself with as much cold criticism, no woman ever analyzed her ideas and actions more carefully, none was ever more doubtful of herself, more self-deprecating, more fearful of hypocrisy, more terrified of lies, more eager for truth, than I. You, my Journal, alone, know that.”

Anais Nin, December 29, 1927

I have long idolized this great writer and woman. She serves as my role model in life, love and the pursuit of self-realization. It was her work that encouraged me to attempt serious writing in the first place.  She spoke out in a time that women had no voice.  She wrote of things polite women did not think of.  Her words have somehow always touched me and had special meaning.  She lived her life on her own terms.  Anais would be a remarkable and inspiring individual in any era. 

 Beautiful in the 1930’s  

Beautiful in the 1930’s

 Still Amazing in the 1970’s 

Still amazing in 1970’s 

Anaïs Nin (born Angela Anais Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell) (February 21, 1903 – January 14, 1977)as a Cuban-French author who became famous for her published journals, which span more than 60 years, beginning when she was 11 years old and ending shortly before her death. Nin is also famous for her erotica, which not only is sensual, but also acts as a study of sexuality in its perfection and flaws. (Thank you, Wikipedia)