Why I Write

I’ve been MIA for about three months. I haven’t had the creative juices flowing through my veins and bringing them to my brain.  Having said that and my slight inspiration to write something and keep in touch with my followers, I write. At the risk of sounding like I’m sending out summer reruns of my past posts, I invite you to re-read or perhaps read for the first time my section called “Ten ideas on how to recover economically from the virus pandemic” and the later ones of finding God and so on.   This post is strangely prophetic to what is or should be happening now (and I’m no prophet).

Many have said I should change the title of my blog to increase readers, for in a nutshell, at first blush, well, it’s “depressing.” Maybe they are right. My intention was to open my heart and mind to self-perform therapy on myself and, just as importantly, get into the heart of what I am going through.   After writing this blog, I have discovered many who battle and struggle with similar quandaries of faith coping with the innermost, relating to their inner self to the beautiful but fallen world we exist in. 

My quest was never to make a living out of this being used by some entity to sell a product or diminish a pure albeit feeble attempt at literary honesty. As many of you know, I performed, wrote, and mixed sound for music. I’ve performed in classical recitals, jazz bands, symphonic bands, club bands (where it was difficult to discern who was enjoying your music soundtrack or just to fade into intoxication slowly or to get up the courage to ask someone to dance and more expectations of the carnal type. I’ve played High school proms, Frat parties, and endless corporate parties and conventions.  The definition of a musician – someone who loads up $20,000 of equipment and instruments drives 50 miles to play for $50-$100 for 4 hours load it all up and drive back and unload it at 3 in the morning and then repeat it the next night and more often than not go to a day job and repeat the whole thing all over again.  The day job fed you and paid the bills and maybe buy some more music stuff and gadgets.  We love music, and the interaction with the audience gives them a little lift, and maybe they might get what was on your heart through your music or not; in many ways, this is why I write this blog.

As I said before, I write for self-therapy, open my inner self and heart as honestly as I can, maybe give my “audience” something, I freely give whether or not it is useful or insightful or maybe at least entertaining and thought-provoking. What you will always get from me is unreserved truth (at least as I see it) and compassion for the reader.  We all are traveling pretty much the same road, maybe some different stops along the way, detours, and occasionally a soul healing stroll down a country lane on a brisk sunny Sunday afternoon.

I’ve re-read this blog lately, and right about now, I’ve not heeded some of my own axioms.  My faith is smaller than a mustard seed (Matthew 17:20), like dicing it with one of my pill splitters from my endless regimen of meds and the tiny pieces selecting only one to hold the entire inventory of my faith. 

I guess that is the case even with the most faithful at times. At least my priest friend postulates on his many and so much appreciated spiritual house calls.  Well, that’s all I can core dump on this subject with no actionable solutions. Still, I will be saying these screwed up times with violence, hate, and vitriol destroying our nation. Normally, dear friendships are also being ignited by an evil that hijacks lofty and just causes that otherwise could have been worked through with God in the center of the conflict. Love of humanity by children of God and just plain old respect of differing opinions with the common goal of something better and at its best achieved not by your own understanding but discernment guided by our loving but testing Creator. Look to God rather than man.

Till next time.