Music Head

Do you have a theme song? One song that, if you had to choose, encapsulates you the most? I, for one, can't think of one for myself. One song that is me? There are plenty of songs that are defining in their own way, important to me for any number of reasons but I'm hard pressed to pick one...save for maybe the clown theme music from the circus. Sooooooo, what songs are significant to me? In no particular order and with no explanations (if you want one, ask) here is a tiny tiny smattering of songs I love. Drop the needle!

Sing Your Heart Out - The Trews
Kiss Me You Fool - Northern Pikes
Jesus of Suburbia - Green Day
I Walk the Line - Johnny Cash
Closer to the Heart - Rush
In the Cage Medley(live) - Genesis
Waiting on a Friend - Rolling Stones
Woman in Chains - Tears for Fears
2112 - Rush
Xanadu - Rush
La Villa Strangiato - Rush
Into the Mystic - Van Morrison
Bossa Nova - Elvis
Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls
Talking out of Turn - Moody Blues
Ahead by a Century - Tragically Hip
Bobcaygen - Tragically Hip
All I Want is You - U2
Where the Streets Have No Name - U2
Bad - U2
Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald - Gordon Lightfoot
Marriage of Figaro - Mozart
Fairy Tale of New York - The Pogues
No Women, No Cry - Bob Marley
Life in a Northern Town - Dream Academy
Down by the Crazy River - Robbie Robertson
Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen
Poison and Wine - Civil Wars
Sinnerman - Nina Simone
Rock and Roll - Velvet Underground
Old Man - Neil Young
Check it Out - John Mellencamp
Minutes to Memories - John Mellencamp
Take the Long Way Home - Supertramp
Have You Seen My Skates - Lennie Gallant
Paradise By the Dashboard Light - Meatloaf
Lost Together - Blue Rodeo
In The Valley - Midnight Oil
Everyday People - Sly and the Family Stone
Number of the Beast - Iron Maiden
Hoedown - ELP
Ah! Leah - Donnie Iris
Magic Bus - The Who
Sound of Silence - Simon and Garfunkle
It's My Life - Talk Talk
Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin
Burning Love - Elvis
Shelter from the Storm - Bob Dylan
Don't Walk Past - Blue Peter
The Weary Kind - Ryan Bingham
House of the Rising Sun - The Animals
Shine - Junkhouse
Biko - Peter Gabriel
Rumble - Link Wray
Blackbird - the Beatles
A Day in the Life - The Beatles
Imagine - John Lennon
Just Like Starting Over - John Lennon
Wolves - Big Wreck
Lover of the Light - Mumford and Sons
Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

As I started adding songs to this list even more started coming to the forefront in my mind. The sheer magnitude of influential music to me is impossible to quantify. I could just as easily simply list albums here and have the same effect. Additionally one can easily see my sweet spot or comfort zone with what I gravitate towards by this list. Of course there is so much more...so much more. You see, I may have to stick with the circus music idea as my theme song as I would have oodles of trouble finding that one song that best defines me. Perhaps on my death bed the inspiration will come. Until then I will be listening to these and so many more for the next 30 or 40 years. Being inspired, moved and entertained by the sheer brilliance of some amazing artists and what they have to say.

Do you have that one song?

Drop the needle!

Ciao
D

Say What

Communication is everything they say. Not sure who "they" are but I tend to think "they" are right in this case. It's interesting how communication has developed, different tools and methods of expressing oneself, how things get misinterpreted and the fallout there after. In an effort to be open and honest with people we sometimes run into situations that would have made it to a Three's Company episode with the ridiculous misunderstandings....people are funny.

In this way, I think a lot of us use idioms and cliches because they are what they are and because they are easy. While casting about for something to say we reach for old favourites because they are well known and we almost instantly can recognize the message contained within. When I am trying to convey a bit of dime store wisdom to my cat it might go like this...

"Listen Boots, you can't cry over spilt milk, it is what it is my furry friend and we simply have to understand that shit happens. The ball is in your court now and you're going to have to shape up or ship out before I let the cat of the bag. I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore, you need to look at this as a blessing in disguise."

I'm not really saying anything specific but my cat should understand what my message is. Not unlike the interviews between periods with hockey players that say varying versions of the same things across the board. You know they are reading from the same playbook. Just once I'd love to see Sidney Crosby say something like "well Bob, we're down a bit right now but I think that maybe we're lucky to be down only by two goals. We are stinking the joint out right now and if I can be more direct, if Kessel doesn't start skating and maybe, you know, hit a few people instead of being a fucking cherry picking goal slut we might be able to mount an offence that doesn't look like my grandmother trying to get out of bed after an 8 hour sherry bender."

Reaching for an old saying or a well worn phrase can be a place holder. A way of contributing to a conversation without really contributing. And I would argue that it's OK to do so in certain situations, say the non important work and social conversations that happen every day. Walking by someone in the hall at work..."hey, how are you?" "I'm doing well thanks, how about you?" as we continue to walk in opposite direction. Not listening or hearing. Or my favourite, "not bad for an old guy." I don't think anyone actually wants to hear anything past that in these situations. "Hey, how are you?" "Well, I'm OK but I think I might have a case of scabies going on right now, not to mention the fact that I owe $2000 on a cock fight last night. But how are you Jack?" Stick to the banality. And know your audience.

While idioms and, by extension, cliches are easy to use and can be quite useful in a wide range of circumstances they detract from real communication, the kind that can get down deep with people. If you've read any of my posts you know the world of dating and relationships provides constant fodder for this blog o' mine. The ups and downs to a degree but more what I am learning through it all. One of those things, which I have known all along really, now just on a deeper level, is that being able to brush aside the pablum and space fillers in a chat is what makes for some wonderful possibilities. It's being able to communicate with your partner, your family and your friends that sets things apart. To use my best friend as an example, we can range in topics from Drumph and his machinations, the trouble that is caused by the religions of the world, the Leafs, grief of a lost son, ultrasonic tests on composite materials, sushi, Willie Nelson and poop stories. We get each other and we do so because we can communicate. We don't agree on all things but we have enough common ground to have a solid foundation. Over the years we have built up our own version of the stealing horses key to success, it can make no sense to some others and we really don't give a fuck. We are ourselves and provide zero fake moments. That, in a nutshell, is what all relationships should be built on. In my humble opinion. 

So, I think it's time to put my nose to the grindstone and get back to the drawing board.

Ciao
D

Echoes

"No one can change the sound of an echo" 

I told you I would come back to this the other day. I liked this quote and I couldn't put a finger on why at the time so I decided to leave it be. And like an echo it kept playing in the background, there but not really there. Straining to be heard and understood, or maybe it was me simply wanting to understand it better.

The imagery of time and reverberation of ones actions and words is what I feel when I read that quote. Like skipping a rock over the surface of a still pond, the ripples have expected and unexpected resonance. Science can explain the expected ones, nobody can predict the unexpected ones. A light breeze, a fish swimming near the surface, a butterfly flapping it's wings in China, who knows really and for certain not all echos will be understood. The same can be said for words spoken out loud. You can't take back an angry word, a hurtful insult. Think about it for a moment, I would venture we have all been on the giving and receiving end of a mean word and how it has stayed with us over all these years. There have been times that I wish I could have sucked those words back into my mouth before they did the damage they did, but unfortunately, despite my super powers, I was not able to. Be it a hyped up argument where emotions got the better of us or simply because of an ill timed thought or, worse, a desire to hurt someone for whatever reason, the end result is the same. Once you have seen the wooden nativity scenes on peoples lawns as an epic battle between two dinosaurs over a table saw you can't unsee it, just as you can't unsay what you just said. You cracked the glass, you pulled the cover back to reveal your thoughts and that shit sticks.

And try as you might, the sincerest apology is not going to change the fact that you broke the covenant, you set in motion a chain of events that no one can tell you how it will play out. My ex wife, before we were married, called me a jerk once. And it bothered me then and it bothers me now. Not only because it was undeserved in my opinion but because it spoke to a certain kind of attitude and way of thinking I simply didn't and don't care for. 25 plus years on and this still echoes with me. Words matter. They always have and they always will.

I suppose this plays against the backdrop of all that is going on around me. the fuzzy cloud of all of life's vagaries, seemingly on full display. Not just for me but for others as well. Maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's the world or maybe it's simply echoes from the past bouncing around. 

Photo courtesy of my dear friend Margo

Ciao
D

Tis the Season

A long, long time ago I spent a summer working at a golf club in Oakville, just out past Mississauga, also known as the boonies back then. This was right after graduating college and my buddy Pete, who had worked there the previous summer, asked if I wanted to come out and work hard and have some laughs...you betcha!! And so began the last true summer of debauchery before the whole adulty thing began.

Working with Peter was and will always be one of my fondest memories coming out of college. We went into business not long after this adventure but this is where we cemented our friendship and drove our boss a little crazy in the process. We worked monster hours that summer, par for the course (pardon the pun) in the chef world. But honestly it never seemed like a lot of work, we simply buckled in for what we had signed up for and learned as much as we could while having a good time. This by the way is the key to working life success...work hard and try to enjoy what you do with a few laughs. Go home alive. Rather, rinse and repeat.

Peter and I shared a certain sense of humour that borders on the asinine with healthy doses of brilliance and wit. Our opportunistic forays really were about entertaining each other and ourselves as best we could. For example. We had a small elevator, dumb waiter, that led up to the dining room from the kitchen. That is how food went from our stoves to the waiting maws of the golfers, lovingly carried from said elevator to the table by some old school servers. Lena and if I recall right, Ted...or maybe Ed. Maybe Henry. Doesn't really matter, they were a piece of combined work. Slightly older than Moses and blessed with the bitter acerbic way that only the living dead can pull off, they were a joy to behold. And a joy to torment. One night we sent some steaks up on the lift and dutifully pushed the intercom buzzer for a pick up. "Yeah" came the surly reply from Tenry, "steaks are on the lift". "Mistakes! We don't make any fucking mistakes! You god damned cooks make all the mistakes!" How do you not love that?

I mentioned before that I was a Big Brother to a kid named Christian. On one of my rare days off I brought him to the club for an outing. As one would expect from a guy like me I sent him up on the lift for a little surprise to lovable Lena. "Food order on the lift Lena" was the intercom communique. And forgetting that there wasn't anyone in the dining room at the time or not even knowing where she was, she slid the door open and let out a little yell at seeing the little black kid smiling up at her. Or the time we sent up live lobsters....something truly satisfying about hearing that shrill yelp from above.

In the midst of all this we actually did cook some food. A lot of that food revolved around tournament bbq's that we both loved and hated. It got us out of the kitchen and surrounded by the intoxicating smell of burning charcoal and sizzling T-Bone steaks, but it meant having to talk to some incredibly ignorant and rude members that seemed to feel that they were the funniest guys on the planet. One such fellow we hated above all else, let's call him Mr Johnson. Johnson had the same stupid jokes as we waited his turn for his steak, "just rip its horns off and wipe its ass boys" when asked how he would like his steak prepared. Obviously not aware of the important work of enzymes in the ageing process we simply looked for the rarest piece we could find to hand over. Except this one last time. Peter nudges me and points to a pair of tongs he has in the embers of the bbq, "watch this" he says. Boy oh boy! So when Johnson offers up his plate to receive the ceremonial dead beast, Peter, using the slightly warm tongs ensconced in the red hot embers, flips the steak onto his plate being sure to kiss Johnson's thumb with the edge of the tongs. Plate went flying out of his hands and the steak flew over the balcony to the ground below. Pure poetry my friends.

Somehow our boss had given us both three days off together so we made the most of it with pursuits of scholarly endeavours. Oh wait, wrong story...we went to visit our friends up at Deerhurst Resort and spent the days and nights pretty well pickled. We tried to learn how to water-ski. We used up 50,000 pellets on our buddies air rifle, shooting out cans and dropping them between the cracks of the decking. Getting to hang out with our school buddies and meeting the cast of characters that can only survive in settings such as these. Lanka, the knife wielding hard as nails cook that shared a nearby cabin and had a proclivity for some sort of warm knife activity. Jacques, maybe not his real name but it should have been, the French Canadian butcher that looked a little like Mad Dog Vachon. Seriously? Where in the world do these people come from...oh right, right here in our own little corner of the world. Good times to be sure.

I guess some of our craziest misadventures revolved around the biggest event of the year, the Wimpey Construction Company Tournament. The owner of the company was also the owner of the golf course and our boss went to the nines for this event. I was warned by Peter to be ready for this thing, it was a beast with three straight days of work simply to get ready for the tournament. Truth be told we could have done everything in a day or two if we only worked smarter and didn't let our boss create the Fruit God. No word of a lie, he used up two rolls of aluminium foil, balled up into this large roundish sphere that he proceeded to cover in glazed lettuce and then stick with fruit skewers. Kind of old school even back then, now simply unbelievable. But that's what he spent a lot of time on while we all went about producing massive amounts of food to throw out later.

Somewhere out in the universe is video that Peter had taken of this day, and on that video you can witness my not entirely slow slide into insanity. I was tired and thus, silly. For whatever reason we had latched onto the Looney Tunes "duck season, wabbit season" routine, so from time to time you could hear any number of us, in that cartoonish  voice yelling out "It's duck season!!" from various areas of the kitchen. The reply came "wabbit season" followed by a chorus of "shoot him now!!" The video had me, nearly buried in mounds of spinach, literally losing my marbles as I recited the whole spiel myself - SHOOT HIM NOW!!!!!

At the end of that night, as Peter and I went through the fridges, organizing and consolidating the massive amount of food left over we can be seen on video poking some fun at each other and our boss, especially around some of his favourite catch phrases such as "save that, I'll make something out of it." By this time we knew full well that we would be throwing out that little smidgen of zucchini in a week but we were saving it. It was funny to us, not so funny to him as a few months later when we all got together for an end of season party and that video was played....errrrrrrr

In the end some great bonds were built between us all. While life has taken us in new directions and places I would like to think that we all remember this time fondly. Here we made our bones.

Ciao
D

The Moment Before

Often I am left shaking my head and wondering what exactly people were thinking before they said or did something that, seemingly, with a moment of pause, could have avoided so much pain, embarrassment or mocking. What was that YouTube "star" thinking when he cemented his head inside of a microwave? Seriously?

I know, it's ironic that a guy that has jumped off of a racing station wagon and stepped across a gap between buildings twenty or so stories up would ask what people were thinking prior to doing something stupid. I get that. And I guess that is, maybe, the point.

In the moment before, those few precious seconds before committing to a course of action, are we thinking straight? I can only speak for myself of course...I would never encase my head in cement for a few YouTube likes. But maybe this mental midget thinks I'm completely whacked for my contributions to the "why am I still alive" file. I was looking for other things. In the case of the station wagon, I was choosing the lesser of two evils in my mind and in a split second decision. My Spider-man act was to shock my buddy, partly, but mostly to see if I could do it. Risk takers unite! So yes, I was thinking straight...and I'm alive to talk about it.

Which brings us to why women live longer than men. We of the hairier sex are really that stupid sometimes. The 'hold my beer, I want to try something" moments are well documented and circulated to deny the existence of the vortex of stupidity that we seem to thrive in. Some are legit forays to full-fill the need for thrills and speed; sky diving, crotch rocket racing and so many more, with quasi rules and expectations of living through the event. Others are quite literally simply Darwin's theory in practice, writ large. You don't often see women building ramps off of roofs to try and jump over pools on their bikes or on roller blades now do you? Seriously, why do you women even like us?

I like the imagery around the line "in the moment before". The deep breath before the plunge. The pause for gravitas prior to stepping into the light. I remember when we were working on opening our B & B 22 years ago. We were fully committed at this point, both financially and emotionally, but there was a moment just before the excavator took it's first bite out of the earth, as it rumbled up the driveway to begin the transformation of our land, that it seemed to be something happening to someone else. Surely this yellow behemoth isn't here for anything to do with us. It is here for us...what the hell are we doing? I was a little panicked at the largeness of what we were trying to accomplish...who the hell were we to think we could undertake such a project? All in the moment before. And months later, with the finishing touches being applied, the project complete as we closed the door on each room satisfied with the accomplishment, ever so thankful for all the hard work and effort from family and friends we arrived at the next moment before.

And here in lies the lesson. Our lives are full of moments just before. The moment before the first kiss. The moment before the sip of wine. The moment before the first word. Are we being in the moment to see, to appreciate and to understand the thing as it unfolds before us? With this whole getting older thing I can appreciate more deeply and often the importance and beauty of these events that are happening all around me and to me. One of the gifts for the privilege of growing old I suppose and we can all probably work a little more to be fully in that moment before and every moment after.

And on to the next moment...

Ciao
D

Goldilocks Syndrome

John Cleese told me to steal from other people so that's what I'm doing. Are you gonna argue with Mr Cleese? I didn't think so. I know I wouldn't.

What am I stealing? Words and ideas. Pearls of wisdom. Sometimes nonsense. Today I am lifting from my guru Aaron Sorkin to be exact. What a surprise eh?

To paraphrase:

"You know what a Goldilocks planet is? It's a planet with the potential to support life 

because of its proximity to a star.

Not too hot, not too cold.

Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water

Enough oxygen, but too much nitrogen

And of all the planets, 1300 were identified but only two were confirmed. 

And of those two, one is radioactive.

Which leaves only one planet in all of space that is perfect.

You're talking about what I think you are? I think so." 

I've spent a bit of time this past week or so talking to friends, using my down time of recovery to catch up and such with people. Drank a bunch of coffee...too much coffee. Since most of these friends are women that I have met in the dating process over the past few years, that have become friends, inevitably talk turns to the eternal search for the "one"

We speak about the experiences we have had, both good and bad. We speak about the what ifs. We speak about where we are. And we speak about whether or not there is a "one" out there. From my perspective, yes. There is someone out there for me that will one day leave me completely vulnerable and happy to be so. Not everyone thinks that way though, and I'm pretty sure my doughy naivete in this area is both funny and annoying to some of my friends. But because we are friends we go along with the whole thing because, in the end we truly want everyone to find whatever it is they are searching for.

This isn't going to spiral into dating advice, simply some observations on the world of dating in your 40's. In case you missed it, the place to meet people now is online since, and lets be honest here, I'm not going to a bar to pick anyone up and I'm a bit too shy to start up a conversation with someone at the local Sobeys. I can just imagine my ill timed comment whilst perusing the melon section of the produce area. Bam! I have enough trouble with my mouth and my warped sense of humour. I don't need to be banned from the grocery store to boot.

So, a few observations:

We all have baggage. How can you be our age and not have them? As long as it doesn't rule your every day life it should be cool. In fact, and here is the tapestry thing at play, I do want to know the story. How did you get here from there? Pretending something didn't happen or didn't have some effect on you is disingenuous I think.

I try not to have boxes to check off or fill. Those deal breakers in some ways have the potential to limit you and limit your possibilities. I'm not talking about height and hair colour here, which is silly in it's own way. If you're attracted to blonde I get that, but don't discount that red head...you have no idea what is possible in that direction until you walk in that direction. Granted, I do have a few litmus tests that I have developed. I'm sure most would agree with me that they aren't too far fetched.

• You can't support Drumph and his ilk
• A cruise to Europe is not really going to Europe
• Be nice

Easy right? 

We are all crazy to some extent. We all have our own proclivities that make us who we are, as it should be, lest we all be the same. Who wants to live in a world full of storm troopers after all? And holding out for "perfect" is a good way to ensure that you won't be celebrating Christmas with someone special. I like a little bit of crazy, the trick is to find how much crazy you're willing to welcome in. I am almost positive that I'm not always an easy person to be with, I have my ways and my views, but I hope I am accepted for what and who I am. For sure I am not changing because as I have stated before, we simply don't change who we truly are. So why bother trying to push on the ocean? And who am I to ask you to change so you can fit into my ideal of a partner? That's why I wouldn't even consider asking. Be yourself, because I certainly am going to be. Be messy, be quirky, be weird...be you.

In the end it still, for me, boils down to opening yourself up. Allowing the possibility of something special to walk in the door as you sit down for the umpteenth beverage. You'll get hurt, you'll have false starts and sometimes it will seem like it isn't even worth it, but like the great philosopher Dory so poetically said...just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

Let me leave you with one last little nugget of wisdom. Curly's Law can be found in the movie City Slickers as Mitch and Curly ride the open range, grand vistas all around as they sit atop their faithful steeds. 

"Do you know what the secret of life is?

This (holding up one finger)

Your finger?

One thing. Just one thing. You stick to that and the rest don't mean shit.

But, what is the "one thing?"

That's what you have to find out."

Is it as simple as that? Maybe. Maybe not. But it certainly seems like a good place to start.

Ciao

D

To analyze the atmosphere and find planets that match the different requirements.
1,300 planets were identified, but only two confirmed.
And of those two, one turned out to be something.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.
Enough oxygen, but not too much nitrogen.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

Not too hot, not too cold.
- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

- Not too hot, not too cold.
- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.
Enough oxygen, but not too much nitrogen.
And we use something, um - Transit spectroscopy.
- I think that's what it's called.
To analyze the atmosphere and find planets that match the different requirements.
1,300 planets were identified, but only two confirmed.
And of those two, one turned out to be something.
- Radioactive.
- Yeah.
So right now that leaves one planet in all of space that's perfect.
You're talking about what I think you're talking about, right? - I probably am.
- All right.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

- Not too hot, not too cold.
- Right.
Near liquid water, but not made of liquid water.
Enough oxygen, but not too much nitrogen.
And we use something, um - Transit spectroscopy.
- I think that's what it's called.
To analyze the atmosphere and find planets that match the different requirements.
1,300 planets were identified, but only two confirmed.
And of those two, one turned out to be something.
- Radioactive.
- Yeah.
So right now that leaves one planet in all of space that's perfect.
You're talking about what I think you're talking about, right? - I probably am.

Read more: https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/view_episode_scripts.php?tv-show=the-newsroom&episode=s02e06

Bleed Out Your Heart

Did you miss me? Well, I'm back, sort of, after my surgical induced hiatus from access to a computer and, well...sight. But here I am once again as I work my way back to normal and some version of sanity in this world.

It's been a bit of a strange few weeks for me, so much so that I feel a tad askew lately. Things change, things end and things happen. I feel like I have a ton of things to say and yet I don't know what I want to talk about. Weird huh? I almost feel like I am in a holding pattern, which makes sense since I am in some aspects. Nothing to worry about of course just pondering.

A song has been endlessly playing in the background this past week, an inescapable earworm that for some reason simply won't go away. Not that I hate the song, quite the contrary, I simply want to know why.

The song is Wolves by Big Wreck. The song, to me, feels like it should have been a huge hit in my youth. It's melodic, soaring and has a depth to it that makes me want to claim it as the music of my generation as opposed to something from this decade that doesn't know how to appreciate it for what it is...a great rock and roll song. Period.

Of course, the music is great but as you can probably guess the lyrics behind it are what keeps playing through my mind with Ian Thornley's soaring voice providing the colour. 

"Oh mark my words

In between the lines

And every little piece

Of the story's entwined"

Invoking the theme of my life lately, the imagery and symbolism of life as a tapestry, my love of stories and authentic experiences that, hopefully, teach me something every day and in the end simply choosing to live life as if I was alive. Lately, I feel like I am nibbling at the edges of something deeper, something more real in my writing and in my life. The nagging feeling that I have something to say but am not saying it. Wandering around the grounds outside instead of joining the party inside the palatial palace.

Ernest Hemingway said that “there is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” And that may very well be the case, but what of this...

"Oh, they said bleed out your heart

If it's still beating for someone else

Trap all those chains

That keep you tethered, that keep you safe"

Taking those chances, allowing yourself to feel pain, to feel fear, to feel. It's not easy of course. Fucking ponies, people and our own heads get in the way too often, but I do think there is both value and virtue in trying regardless. The journey, and not the destination, are what we should be focused on. The experiences we have, the stories we collect and the people we meet are what our tapestries are weaved from.

"And all of my favourite stories are about you"

It's funny how simply writing about this has helped to clear my head a bit. The act of "bleeding on the page" has helped to clarify my thoughts and feelings. Cathartic some may say. I know for me, over the past two years or so, this blog has been a bit of a lifeline in times of doubt, in times of confusion and in times of revelation. I recommend it highly my friends...do it for yourself, I promise that it will help. Write for yourself.

When writing I often do Google searches for words that I have running through my head, lyric meanings and so on to help with clarity and direction. One of those searches provided this quote that I want to think on for a bit.

"no one can change the sound of an echo"

I like this. But why?

Photo courtesy of my incomparable friend Margo