It feels good to wake-up to your dreams, to see a reality created from your ambitions. I am a proud survivor of the Universe’s strategically placed obstacles to detour me on my path. I am surviving the learning, the lessons, the teachers, and the other students competing for control of my visions. As I stare into the eve of greatness, I try to calculate the length of this journey. I wonder if my present course the best one that I can chart. In reflection of my experiences, I have greatly evolved from the young and dumb Kentucky country boy of my wonder years. I’m happy with the course that I have charted thus far, yet uncertain about if it is the best course. Even though, I don’t walk alone on my path, I somehow feel alone. I’m lucky and privileged to have a social network constructed from wondrous adventures into the unknown. It is a beautiful thing to have people willing to trek with me in this labyrinth of self-determination. Together, we celebrate growth without tearing the universal threads that bind us together. We celebrate being lost while finding ourselves. In memorial of the pieces of myself lost in the adventure, I enthusiastically celebrate the newness of who I wish to become. I celebrate that I do not have to walk through the valley of death alone or walk through it in fear of any evil or good. At times, good things happening can be more detrimental to an individual’s elevation than evil things. I’m thankful for the lovely people that keep me level in an uneven world. They make life quite invigorating…

Weaving Now

While staring at various lifelines woven together by the Universal loom of music last night during the Getty event, I began wondering how I could crochet my life into a masterpiece worthy to place on walls. I began looking into my life’s colorful palette for turbulence, drama, romance, suspense, and opportunity, wondering would it be enough to fill the void pages of a book. As I recollected my collaged memories of yesteryear, my eureka moment struck me like a drunk driver. My past is an interesting one, but my present is my past’s birthplace. I also realized that people intrigued and interested in my past would be willing to scan their eyes across my current events. I have decided to open a door to my present and not give my readers a vision of my past, especially if that past has been weathered with sensationalism and excitement over the years. We all know stories become more extravagant as they age in the minds of storytellers. Storytellers also must be interested in the stories woven to the listener. I hope that my current thread of life is enough to keep your interest and keep my own.

The colors are vivid, and the patterns will be elegant.