When there is nowhere left to turn and the vehicle stops, then I suppose this is where we’ll find ourselves. I suppose we will look around and say, “I guess this place is as good as any,” and then we can take it from there.
This is where we’ll end up, hopefully, this is someplace warm and someplace nice. People will smile and say common things like, “Hello,” or “good morning,” without the need for payback or further expectation.
When the road ends and there is no more reasons to keep running, then we will at last have found a place that we can settle into a life, which we call our very own.  

Before going forward, we must remember that we cannot be afraid to try. Before we begin, we have to remember to leave our fear at the door. This is no time to be afraid. Instead, now is the time to put things in perspective.
Before we move on, we are going to replace the word fear with the word respect. Therefore, we are not afraid of our competition. Instead, we respect them.

I’d like to revisit a morning I spent on a mountain near one of the Upstate, New York reservoirs. The sun was on its way.
I was awake in my little tent and sitting at the opening to watch the morning’s first light. The sky changed and mirrored across the top of the water, which was absolutely beautiful and calm. I was at peace in a way like never before.
There was no one around. There was no one to interfere with the moment and no one close by to intrude upon the quiet sounds of nature; the birds chirping and the wind blowing. I could feel the cool breeze of on my face. I could think without the interference of anything man-made. In fact, the only thing man-made at this place was me. All else was there long before I was created.

Put me out there, know what I mean?
Put me out there in the middle of the ocean when the sun is high, the sky is blue and the winds are just enough to blow back my hair. There is no tension, no grief, no reason to believe or disbelieve anything.
Put me out here where nothing else matters except this, us, and the buoyancy of the deck beneath our feet.

There is a strange buzz about the place now, the city, I mean, and the scared emptiness I see of a pandemic experience, which no one asked to have but “Surprise,” it is here anyway.
And this could just be me —I know this is me and my anxiety, my old familiar friend, and companion, which I call this out for what it is, because it is what it is, which is “Just another day,” because after all; it is in fact, just another day. It’s just another thing. It’s just another concern among a list of many, but I mean come on now, really? Did we really need this right now?

Everyone has their own life’s story. And sometimes I am approached with a frequent idea that begins with something like, “So I heard you’re a writer.”
I am often told about life from someone else’s perspective, which I appreciate. More often, however, I hear the most popular idea which is, “If I wrote a book about my life, I guarantee you it would be a best seller!”
There would be a lot of best sellers out there if this were so, but nevertheless, this is when I refer to my stock response, which is, “So then write it.” This changes the energy of the conversation almost instantly.

There are places I have seen that I never believed I would see. There are beaches I have walked along and sunrises as well as sunsets that I have witnessed. Take for example, one of my last trips to the west coast, Imperial Beach in San Diego, California.
I was up at the sunrise each day and there to watch the sun go down.
I never thought I would be here, but yet, I was there.
I never thought I would have the opportunities that came my way, but yet, I did have them, regardless to what my thoughts were.

I remember back to when I wore those great old clothes. The nightlife was something special to me. This was me, back in the day, trying to sport my outfits like I was something out of a movie.
I was searching for something and weaving through the enigmatic version I had of the city and the scene of downtown, cobblestone streets, and the Merc Bar, which is where I found myself a few times, late at night, wet streets after a summer’s rain, and there was me, looking to find something a bit more than just the average occasion.
I remember a night when I was walking down Broome Street because I decided to step away from the crowds.
I looked up at the buildings and wondered what it would be like if I lived up in one of the lofts. What would I be then? Or maybe the thought was what I could have been.

There are times when words fall short until you press “Play.”
That’s when the music starts.
That’s when the song comes on to introduce the lyrics.
And the songs that fit us best are is not just any songs.