I love you, but that's the only thing that makes sense.  After I die, I'll still love you.  Maybe then I'll help you, instead of putting you through hell.  Far too long gone the hours of nothing wrong.  And if I go to hell, then at least I'll know that I made the right decision by leaving the finest lover whom I have ever known.  Because you are meant for heaven, and this demon always had the highest hopes for love.

Perhaps that is the matter:  when high hopes turn into great expectations.  Mere mortals like you and I, who believe ourselves more powerful than what our gifts allow, taste a bond too strong to break.  But that bond…  it really should have cracked years ago.  And life dragging us through it, like a mustang having us tied at the ankles and twisting through Arizona dirt roads in days of new frontiers.

So…  maybe we’re even further gone than I believed.  Far beyond driven...  until word of honor, vows, and pledges linger too long without any strong backing.  The best times can only be measured in hindsight, and that is all we have.  And with that, please excuse my drifting off into an indistinct horizon.  For I’ve never had a path to follow in my shattered mind, and you are the only shepherd to ever welcome me into the fold.  And this hell hath no fury...  no fury at all.  Only resignation.

I love you, but that's the only thing that makes sense. After I die, I'll still love you. Maybe then I'll help you, instead of putting you through hell. Far too long gone the hours of nothing wrong. And if I go to hell, then at least I'll know that I made the right decision by leaving the finest lover whom I have ever known. Because you are meant for heaven, and this demon always had the highest hopes for love.

Perhaps that is the matter: when high hopes turn into great expectations. Mere mortals like you and I, who believe ourselves more powerful than what our gifts allow, taste a bond too strong to break. But that bond… it really should have cracked years ago. And life dragging us through it, like a mustang having us tied at the ankles and twisting through Arizona dirt roads in days of new frontiers.

​So… maybe we’re even further gone than I believed. Far beyond driven... until word of honor, vows, and pledges linger too long without any strong backing. The best times can only be measured in hindsight, and that is all we have. And with that, please excuse my drifting off into an indistinct horizon. For I’ve never had a path to follow in my shattered mind, and you are the only shepherd to ever welcome me into the fold. And this hell hath no fury... no fury at all. Only resignation.

I have always loved cathedrals, with intricate stained glass work, symmetrically patterned ironwork, brilliant painted murals, and massive pipe organs. For me, they truly are divine.

As a boy, I attended a Roman Catholic grade school, which had its own Cathedral: Mount Saint Peter's Cathedral to be specific. Countless stained glass depictions of the saints adorn the windows, my favorite depicting St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals. And the 12 stations of the cross, carved from wood with precision, border on the inner walls.

Constructed from the Andrew Mellon mansion in Pittsburgh, PA, (the church and school are located there also), it was mostly built from marble, with a marble hall below it. There is also a small chapel attached to the side of the cathedral where the prayer candles and the painstakingly carved wooden confessionals are located.

The altar is entirely made of exquisitely shaped ironwork: climbing, winding, and interweaving among marble columns, like sturdy grapevines culminating in a dome above. Also, the place reserved for the Chalice is a considerably sized, golden domed tabernacle, with a respectful amount of detail.

Finally, situated within the choir balcony in the rear of the cathedral lies an enormous pipe organ. I clearly recall that, as a child, the largest pipe matched the diameter of my head. I only have sung in the balcony choir on 2 or 3 occasions, but I would often gaze back at the gigantic pipe organ while attending mass in the wooden pews.

Although I have conflicted judgment of the time spent in Mount Saint Peter's Grade School, my memories of the Cathedral will forever be fond: my personal Cathedral of Learning.

"Oh me !   Oh life !   Of the questions of these recurring.  Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish.  Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless ?).

Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d.  Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me.  Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined...

The question, O me.  So sad, recurring--
What good amid these, O me, O life ?

That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you
may contribute a verse."

~ Walt Whitman

I swear we were love.
We, once immortals of moonlight's
glances.  Now...  I'm praying
within forbearance.

Didn't we shine like bonfires
in autumn ?  Wasn't our lust an
ever present wafting jasmine ?

And after each fall from grace
at the hands of a masked Adonis,
we would begin upon a promising
current, back out to an all
consuming sea.

I am forlorn of any visit home,
for then the aching in my chest.
It knocks the wind out of my
lungs, ablaze with regretful gasps.

Still, I put a match to the
kindling of remembrance.  And
didn't we shine like bonfires ?

Heavenly body, swirling nostalgia...  a bittersweet testimonial in the clouds.  Loved ones passed return from the skies as snowflakes.  Making apologies with their breath hushed on the breeze...  in graceful, dancing descent...  regretful for their too long absence.

​And so, their kisses melt on our skin.  We count ourselves fortunate for their return, they with their reposeful touch.  In the midst of our despair, that drifting reunion will stay.

And so, you and I console each other, with the solemn reassurance that "pain builds character".  And we cling to that insistence:  that we emerge from our life's heartache wiser...  by far.  And, on occasion... comforted, by the blessing of the solace loved ones reawaken within.  Never doubt that.

These strange days...   I pray for their promise to stay.  To choose from a few is all I can do.  Or will danger knocking become food for talking ?  Those mocking my house of cards, left rocking in a strong breeze ?  I bleed whatever they don't want to see.   My house comes crumbling down. My house comes crumbling down.

But for as long as I can create a song by which to abate, I can rebuild... I will rebuild those painted wall pieces knocked down.  Still… time will rebuild woes; tainted call “cease”. It’s talked 'round.

Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, and Spades.
Starts the dubs, light gone for days.
By and by, need not ask why.
Our spirits shall forever survive.

Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, and Spades.
Starts the dubs, light gone for days.
By and by, need not ask why.
Our spirits shall forever survive.

These strange days...   I pray for their promise to stay.  To choose from a few is all I can do.  Or will danger knocking become food for talking ?  Those mocking my house of cards, left rocking in a strong breeze ?  I bleed whatever they don't want to see.   My house comes crumbling down. My house comes crumbling down.

But for as long as I can create a song by which to abate, I can rebuild... I will rebuild those painted wall pieces knocked down.  Still… time will rebuild woes; tainted call “cease”. It’s talked 'round.

Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, and Spades.
Starts the dubs, light gone for days.
By and by, need not ask why.
Our spirits shall forever survive.

Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, and Spades.
Starts the dubs, light gone for days.
By and by, need not ask why.
Our spirits shall forever survive.

​Do people who say they're real honestly mean it, or understand what it represents ?  I would love to know this, too.  Is it just something that a few people say ?  Or does it actually stand for something ?  Does it even matter ?

Sometimes I doubt myself in this respect, just as I doubt others around me.  I fight myself every day, battling inside for my own sake.  The world outside of me has one answer about who and what I am inside.  I fight for my soul, my true nature, but my mind is flawed and weak.  Every positive thing that I achieve daily is discounted and taken as a lie; all perceived failure, a reason why I don't deserve to exist.

"The whirling dervish of the world surrounds, but my heart still bleeds with the curse of needs."

I wrote that lyric in one of my least hopeful songs.  All that I can deduce, from all that I experience daily, is that I need to feel emotional heartache when I am out among my fellow human beings.  It's the one thing that restores my peace, my sense of wholeness.

Is that what it means to be real ?

​Jim Morrison once wrote of a lost section of highway, curling and bending through hollows and ravines, in the twisting paths midst barren desert mountains.  Far beyond twisted than the highway man, lying in wait further ahead.

Yet in my dreams...  so beautiful, breathtaking.  When we come out of the blind untrustworthy turnings...  those hills yield their grasp to unraveling open road.

Now...  two lanes, laid bare as with a ruler.  You cannot see any ending ahead, nor the beginning of your traveling in hindsight (rear view).

That's the best way:  smoothed 66, vacant and beckoning you onward, the hazardous moments caught with plentiful time to prepare.  Even so, the hours lie ahead:  hazy-desolate.  You come to the straight away, gazing for miles 360° (pure, bare-bones, and fundamental).

Be grateful then.  Your dear vagabond, this tale imbued of esteemed moment, presented by gracious nature.  My penning conveys only a fragmented reflection of the heartache consoling.  A knowing of solace is meant to be savored, and held inside as if...  gone too soon.

One morning, almost a decade ago, I was struck by the inspiration that comes only from staying awake for all of the previous night.  I sat down at the computer and began a fervent outpouring of guts and aspirations for hours on end, knocking off several chapters of what came to be the beginnings of my short story:  "Around".  I've added bits and pieces to it over the years, but it was shelved and went on to collect far too much dust.  That is, until I attended a graduation party for my cousin's son.  I sat down...  wrote out a brief synopsis for a novel that would include my short story as a section.

Fast forward to current day...  the character building is finished, and many chapters written.  The book will be in mostly arbitrary segments.  Characters come together much in the much akin to the movie "Magnolia" or more so like Stephen King's "The Stand".  These characters work earnestly to achieve a healing, both personally and collectively.  They gather a deepening awareness, imbued with a sense of hope from what they accomplish, despite the imposing complexity of life.

Only the intellectually engaging (slightly daunting) process of writing and fleshing out the story remains.  As of late, I spend most of my time with monologues that would make for pivotal moments in the story.  I like to think of these as "Aha... moments":  tying together prolific reflection and rich character growth.  Live broadcasts and other content from an instagram group named Kiingo, help me stay inventive with new composition tools and techniques.  They've been invaluable for approaching what, without a better diversified perspective, could be tedious and uninspired.  Advice, ideas, and opinions on the subject are welcome and encouraged.

Today, a true friend from days of old, shared some insight on her Christmas heritage. Hearing someone with cherished traditions say "however you celebrate is wonderful", in the current state of this world, is both fantastic and comforting.

Like her, my family keeps the tradition of an Advent calendar. We may not attend Catholic Mass or agree with all Catholic dogma, but we have a ceramic nativity that came over from Italy with my Great Nana when she was a little girl. There are many special ornaments that have been passed down, and others that will probably become heirlooms as well.

There have been some clashes between my partner and I over how to keep Christmas. He is an atheist, and questioning what is real and what is important over time... that is one truth in our kinship. He feels the stress of getting gifts heavily, but he has some of the best ideas for them too: practical, creative, and personal. There is a sparkle in his eyes when he receives a special gift, and as time passes he grows closer to family. So as that evolves I count us blessed to find compassion and understanding among us.

That is what Christmas is about, right ? Connecting with people. "Resetting our internal clocks and hearts", as my old college cohort reminded me. Restoring and strengthening some heartfelt kindness and good will.

And with that I wish the best for you and yours, always. It will never be too late to make positive change in yourself and others. Let your light shine brilliantly. And thank you for sharing it with all of us.

Uncertain, alone.  Within a common tone, men and women reveal our own passions by the vessel of our actions, mostly without the drive for a single insistence, to justify their all too lethal persistence, in living lives free of resistance, for cryptic minds in regal subsistence.

Without borders or nations, stories are spun without narration.  The 1st person's a keeper if we remain as a seeker for the strength to be meeker than in days heretofore.  Careful to be clear whose door you close.  Those whom we're true toward...  all deserve kindness, regardless the sorrow we fear shall usher in tomorrow.

For only to empower truth, its innate proof kept safe by wallflowers in history's high towers.  Imbued with such powers, we sense with intuition and dispense with all suspicion of pretense, or some condition too immense for man's rendition, at dire expense coming to fruition.

Being a stranger in a strange world, I feel more at ease. There are no ties binding me to my surroundings, or anything. I go voluntarily... no past, no future... a quieted down means of expression and experience. I exist comfortably, knowing nothing of worry outside of the time being.

And that, I think, is the key to understanding the truth inside: a blank mental space with no prejudice, and no pretense. Freedom of communication lives in the present, not static or fear. I simply find interest in living, to roam with no real destination.

Still, I too settle into improvisation... as a means of coming to terms with the augmented reality of an intrigued societal subjugate. Concentrations of commentary wax poetic and wain philosophical.

And I have woken up... out of carrying contentions and back into the hear and now, meandering through the faint atmosphere and these shaking shadows. I know intrinsic certainty in a true melancholy stability, even though the boundless do invade my mysterious, mortal dwelling. A temporary peaceful vessel, I see the horizon bend light and time... and I'm nobody.

Would you rather live for something worth living for, or die for something worth dying for ?  When all is said and done, they both reach the same conclusion.  I should probably explain what I originally thought the difference to be between them.

I live by 3 axioms:  Do no harm; help where you can; and create inspiring and empowering work.  So generally, I consider myself a "live for something worth living for" person.  With a few reservations, I am proud to give support to a nonprofit organization called Amnesty International.  They champion social justice causes around the world without affiliation to any one government:  abolishing the death penalty; advocating for the release of prisoners of conscience; and promoting the free exchange of ideas in stable and peacefully established, democratic societies.

But by having a closer look at what it means to "die for something worth dying for", there isn't much difference between the two.  Certainly, one can choose to physically sacrifice their life for another, but even by that example they would be extending living for something worth living for to its mortal conclusion.

For this respect, I will reword the second part as "killing for something worth killing for".  By one of my three axioms, I can do no harm.  The taking of another life, to be concise, goes against my very nature.  I have my demons and darkness inside, and I live with them daily.  Rather, it's because I live with demons and darkness inside, that I do my best to give what I give...  to compensate for my imperfections and shortcomings.

Unfortunately, killing for something worth killing for is a necessary evil of the world.  Soldiers must take the lives of others to maintain societal freedoms.  No doubt that in a perfect world, there wouldn't be a need for war.  However, mankind is an imperfect being in an imperfect world, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.  And so with a heavy heart, the soldier's hand moves us toward the freedom of expression and the preservation of our civil liberties, with integrity and honor. 

But there is one aspect of this human condition whereby I can help the soldiers:  I can lend my support to Amnesty International, All Out, and the ACLU so that the soldier won't need to take as many lives, fight on as many battlefields.  I can save the soldiers' lives, just as the soldier saves mine.  It's this strange, unfortunate balance that we strike with each other...  it's the most that we can do for ourselves.

I know that I've spoken in generalizations here, so I look to you to comment your thoughts, passions, and where you stand in this world...  in the comments below.  I thank you for your time spent reading here, and your consideration of what I have said here.  Best wishes to you and yours.

Questions well thought out will take flight forever.  Answers well founded bring success in hopeful endeavors.  We who were spending through a long heartache, will grow a whole wonderful world within.  We are all travelers in this greatest tragedy.  Where to begin ?  How to begin ?

Who am I to you ?  Why do you live ?  How do you love ?
What do you mean ?  When can you start ?


The history of the balance between reading palms and tea leaves, or believing the ill strike down of helpful deeper meanings.  A reminder of the world war on truth, beauty, freedom, and love.  With an unconventional will, our souls are certain to rise above.

Who am I to you ? Why do you live ? How do you love ?
What do you mean ? When can you start ?


We'll learn about the worlds untold and everything surrounding.  This, that, the other...  everything's astounding.  In the good grace of what I may strive toward, surely someday I'll deserve my life more.  Maybe we'll find something else within the mind...  build a strong abiding faith in human kind.

Who am I to you ?  Why do you live ?  How do you love ?
What do you mean ?  When can you start ?


​So our trust in the importance and goodwill of others, must be built carefully with our sisters and brothers.  I falter greatly but less often than at first.  The slate of wrongs daily wiped clean, in rebirth.

Who am I to you ?  Why do you live ?  How do you love ?
What do you mean ?  When can you start ?

I wrote and posted this piece last week, but was very unsatisfied with it. So, I made a few changes. To understand the title better, and how it applies, look up Nathaniel Hawthorne's novel by the same name.

​​Through the complexity, I have found a strange, intrinsic presence in the periodic untying of my mind.  I  have spoken of this before:  this dive into entropy, this deathly peace.  Hope in presence springs eternal moments of inspiration, when simplicity is revealed for that which was once beyond our comprehension.  The presence at the source of my awakening is none other than all mankind's common heartache.

Thankfully, that pain grounds us in humility, reminds us of our humanity and our mortality.  It allows us to feel, to develop a sense of empathy.  It helps us because we sense our soul again, because it quiets rampant thoughts, silences the ego, preparing us for better things.

In this hopeful truth, we develop a deepening appreciation for all that is in this vast universe.  Not because it is infinite, but because we are transient beings.  We exist as both a part of, yet simultaneously apart from, all of creation.

With this incorporeal heartache, we travel through life, traveling upon firmer ground for the soul.  We are imbued with further opportunity for clarity within, and some day the minister's black veil will be lifted from our eyes.

Sad thing to trust, but sometimes you lose, no matter how hard you've been working to prove.  Though we can't loosen the grip of our demons within, it's the only place that a true change can begin.  But no need to covet answers from above.  Only keep close the song of the dove.

A subtle change in view, like a flickering light, can lead the longest loved to choose to take flight.  It leaves us with a dull ache begotten, the pang of their passions never forgotten.  But no need to covet answers from above.  Only keep close the song of the dove.

Outside of our minds lies a crippling world.  There are terrible things done in the name of flags unfurled.  Too much noise can create a cold, deafening silence, the presence of which entices fools to follow with violence.  Alas, no need to covet answers from above.  Only keep close the song of the dove.

-- Me

He was glad to be alive.  Now he's mad from being alone.  It's the worst way to go, when your mind's a home that you no longer own.  Too much time spent passing time.  In his search for some proof of enlightenment, to fix the hole in his roof where the light gets in...  the whole of his head came crashing down, under the weight of going in circles, and now...

In circles, his mind goes in circles.  His mind is not his own.  In certain circumstances...  in certain circle dances, throughout the four seasons, his mind is not his own.  His life's a reminder to be forgotten.

Sometimes the mirror shows the confusion in his eyes.  Sometimes the mirror shows a conclusion to goodbyes.  The roots of our existence are true in their persistence, as we try to live lives of fortitude and pride.  No remorse from the source of our trials, just a grave case of hysterical survival.

In circles, his mind goes in circles.  His mind is not his own.  In certain circumstances...  in certain circle dances, throughout the four seasons, his mind is not his own.  His life's a reminder to be forgotten.

"​How long have we been covered by the clouds of confusion ?  All the hapless delusions bring only beautiful illusions.  Such pain not included, these dreams were concluded.  It becomes crystal clear why the banishment of fear (the essential concern from which we learn) can never leave the ground.  If we are to be sound of mind, then remembering our mortality must become divine.

Intelligence can become an attractive sense, if it is placed carefully so in an apropos scenario.  Entropy qualifies as such:  a gradual decline into chaos, an infinite loss.  But logic can impose order, as we grow older...  until the heart is strong enough to allow itself to heal.  Only then can the soul feel a renewed sense of purpose, and carry on in this circus."

​-- Me

After finishing my search through the journals covering my 20's in Milwaukee, I found almost no usable material for my current project:  the 50 piece poetry book.  Seems like I poured everything of any importance into Kuderski and my 2 albums together.  That's all good and fine, but I really did, and still do, have high expectations where my creative abilities are concerned.

There are two songs that didn't make the cut for my solo debut.  I simply thought that my vocal delivery just wasn't up to standards.  You know, I couldn't seem to get it out right.  So, I'm reworking them both.  Either way, the price of the album will NOT be raised.  Meaning that if you buy the whole release, you'll have 14 songs for the cost of 7 songs.

Fortunately, I'm drawing inspiration from the novel I have been writing.  No progress adding to the novel, but I've found plenty related to the deeper content of the human condition.  "What's it all about" takes center stage for many of us, but especially during our 30's and later in life.  Maybe it relates to more of us then because the days of our youth move further and further behind us, distant memories in a linear progression of time.  Only time will tell, but the world seems far more promising now.

That's really all for now.  To be honest, the day to day, humdrum roll of it all taxes me much greater these days.  My last blog, that I wrote yesterday, addressed all of those subjects, so if you're interested in that sort of testimonial topic it's right there for you.  I hope that this posting finds you doing well and in good spirits.  If not, may you discover the root of your discontent, and tear that weed out of the ground.  Take care, and best wishes to you.

In my last blog, I waxed poetic about my first true relationship that was both romantic and serious.  I just read over that blog, and I think this time, I'm going to wax philosophical and only a little poetic about the relationship that I have shared with my life partner for the passed 13 years, 7 months, and 19 days.  We have shared highs and lows for certain, but their are traits of my partner and I that keeps us together.  I would like to explore those here with you.

I'm not really a fan of posting a lot of memes.  Over time, I've come to consider most of them to not really say much of any importance.  Sure, I've had my favorites, most of which I'll add on my 2 cents about what is said.  One thing ties most of them together, I suppose.

I reach out to those whom might be going through a rough patch.  I have always considered myself to have a vagabond mentality, the heart of a black sheep, and have been dubbed by many as an old soul.  As William Patrick Corgan (Billy Corgan of The Smashing Pumpkins) penned:  "I sensed my loss before I even learned to speak."  So I guess it's just in me to identify with wallflowers.

There's a Catch 22 there.  Get too close and you get hurt, but you have to see people in order to help out, if and when you can.  My trouble lies in that delicate balance in my life.  So, I tend to walk outside of it all, with my heart on my sleeve.  I do my best to be kind, true, and necessary in my thoughts, words, and actions.  That's how I live with myself, day to day.

I met my life partner in that way.  We share the same kind of heart, mind, and soul.  Our weaknesses and strengths mostly compliment each other, and we are both talented and skilled in artistic means and ways.  We are by no means perfect people, but it's my firm belief that we are perfect for each other.  For me to ask for anything more is foolish, pretentious, and pointless.

So, as you may have surmised, I love him dearly and our relationship is anything but sensible for me.  But I will never cheat on him or look for any romantic or relationship other than ours.  When I cheated in my past, I lost everything and almost everyone for whom I dearly cared.  I am by no means willing to part ways with my partner, everything I have gained, and everything that I have accomplished since.  That may seem completely self-interested; but if I don't care for myself, how am I supposed to care for anyone else ?

With that, I think that I have said everything that needs said.  It has been brewing within for a good amount of time now, and I have written all of this in one, convoluted stream-of-consciousness, and in one sitting.  I will probably go back and make grammatical and spelling alterations, but that is really all.  I hope that some of this may have helped somebody else, in whatever way it may have helped, but mostly it was necessary in order to help me to make sense of everything in my mind, heart, and soul.  Take care of yourself, and take care of everything that you prize, and of everyone for whom you care.  Goodnight and best wishes to you.

At one moment in my youth, I lived briefly through rose-tinted visions, nineteen and reeling in the whirlwind of discovery, and maintaining some assemblance of mental order.  I had met and loved a few men my age, equally dazed and confounded by this paradoxical newness of purpose and devotion to reckless abandon.

The 1st taught me the disillusion in obsession.  The 2nd taught me that there were actual men who lusted after me.  The 3rd gave me the ability to admit I had a lot to learn in lovers' arms.  The 4th taught me unrequited love is a sickness to be cured by abandonment.  And then, there was you, my 1st true love.

I will always feel your trauma inside of me. No apologies can ever do it justice. You were a trembling lover who only let go...  as I brushed the hair back over your ear while you slept.  The French have named it a little death that left you excising demons in my arms, You caught truth inside the words of Emily Dickinson.

"The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
  
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty (privilege) to die."

By means of writing our names in strange signatures, you scribbled that passage of her poem by the side, and I felt it my duty and privilege to mend and sanctify your struggling and suffering.  Your kind of insanity was prudent, necessary for your survival. You thought you were lucky to have me.  But I fell from the grace of our exaltation.

I have no reason other than the confusion within between my mind, heart, and flesh.  Split from reason, voices around and inside myself beckoned me to try rekindling my obsessions, my lust for more than sanctity and safety.  I betrayed you, and I can't forgive myself for the ignorance and lust for more than what I had always dreamed.

I never did and won't ever deserve you.  I do this, go through this...  daily.  But if you should need me, for any reason, other than the love I yearned to have for decades, seek me out.  I will not bite at the chance to return to your love.  This yearning wishes not to be forgiven; that isn't how life and the unknown play out mankind's destiny.  I can't promise a perfection in time.  To know that you are safe and relatively sound, that is my bond...  for whatever it is worth.

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

– Harper Lee
To Kill A Mockingbird


Many parts of my life fall under this definition of courage.  Without courage, confidence is impossible to possess. There is no reason to persist if you don't gain confidence from what you have accomplished, and then by that means gain the ability to believe in what you will accomplish.

Love takes courage to carry on and to see it through.  There's another quote by an unknown author that says that sometimes courage is a quiet hope at the end of the day, of a voice saying "I'll try again tomorrow".  Too many times I backed down when I shouldn't have, withholding my truth and apologizing for making things too difficult for my lovers.  It would have been wonderful if I hadn't.  That's one of my faults:  lack of courage in dealing with my partners of the past.  Compromise is the truth learned with age, but learn from me and don't sell yourself short in love.

Determination to pursue your passion in your vocation also takes courage.  I can't count the number of times that I've put down my passion as silly or pointless.  Like the quote at the beginning of this rant, that's not the point of doing it.  All success should be celebrated, but it's the difficult work that's most worth doing.

Another of my faults here is not surrounding myself with helpers.  I was encouraged to stand alone and be self-reliant, but to the point of turning away others when they tried to be there for me.  When they tried to help me see that everybody needs help in some aspect of their lives at most times.  My life's work is one place where I should have learned that earlier, and I only have myself to blame for it.  I squandered my opportunities with inaction, when my current partner professed his belief in me, in so many aspects of myself and my life.  I don't intend to make that mistake again.

So to you, the audience, please take these ramblings of a madman, what I have professed...  keep them in your mind for those moments when you find yourself in similar situations.  Love is meant to be love with courage.  Life is meant to be lived with courage.  And your life's work is meant to be pursued with courage.  I hope you've found something that will help you this Spring, and possibly beyond this moment in time.  Class dismissed.

This song has taken the mantle as the favorite track from the album.  Listeners seem to identify best with it.  While I was recording it, I also enjoyed the process of laying down the vocals a lot.  Some songs...  you have to drag them out kicking and screaming.  But this one came pretty naturally and just seemed to flow easily.  Also, being radio friendly and having a pop sensibility, "Home within the Sacred Silences" has more people tuning in, and identifying with the message behind its lyrics.  Don't get me wrong; I am very happy about how it's being received.  So, keep tuning in...  and maybe stay around for a while, to hear what other songs might speak to on the inside of you.

To be honest, this song embodies the principle at the center of what I'd like to achieve with my music.  I have always been on the outside of the world looking in, but also looking inside of myself.  I want to inspire the black sheep of families, feeling at home on the island of misfit toys, to do the same.  It's one of the benefits of being an outsider looking in.  As they say in one of my favorite nostalgia movies, The Perks of being a Wallflower, "You see things, you keep quiet about them, and you understand".  It also helps the nostalgia factor that I grew up in Pittsburgh (where the movie takes place).

I'd like to share this, too.  Please...  don't give in to the dark or the light, but maintain a balance between them, on the inside.  Spiritual or not spiritual, there is always something under the stars, and among the stars, to learn.  I'll close with a second quote from Carl Jung, a man whose work has always resonated with me.  Take care, my friends, and try to enjoy the short time that we're around.

"In the last analysis, the essential thing is the life of the individual. In our most private and most subjective lives we are not only the passive witnesses of our age, and its sufferers, but also its makers.  We make our own epoch."

​--  Carl Jung