"Of All That Has Passed Since Last We Met" (Jan. 2010)

Where do I begin? Do I resume or recount the wonders and woes coloring my small corner of the world since I last wrote to and for you at the beginning of November? How do I paint pictures with poor words of incredible joys and deep sorrows? I would speak to you of these things if I could, if there was a place, with a deep draught for tempering the words and their delivery, and relief from the incessant ticking of the clock.

I would tell you details of opening the door to a new home and a new chapter, and of leaving behind a home of 17 years. I would share the great blizzard of 2009 and of Madeleine's first sledding, and of balding tires on a van and shoveling two feet of snow while the remainder turns to ice. I would speak wistfully and reverently of friendship, of the deep bonds of music and how they run through places in the soul that are difficult to describe. Of relief that one of those musical comrade's journey through sickness seems to be towards recovery, and of the intense sorrow of having to let another go. And perhaps I would tell you how odd a sensation it is to let go of much of the modern world - of this internet, of TV, even of phone. I have had much time to reflect, and way too much to reflect upon.

There are things of which we could speak if we could. I am tired of talking. I would rather listen, rather that you tell me a story, of where you have been since last we met. There are things that you might inspire me into sharing to my surprise. But tell me, where does your journey lead from here? When mightst we meet again in person?

I know the road beckons me again now. In between I am learning the hands of the carpenter, the fluid strokes of the painter, the worries of the shelter manager. I remain one with the ways of the traveler, the words and music and moments of the wandering bard and troubadour. I have heard the cries of the miner, the giggles of the toddler, the despair of the millworker, the energy of the entrepreneur. I hear all their voices. I catch what I can - scrapping and scribbling the ocean of thoughts in the quiet places between the waves. I am surfing, and I am searching. And I am anxious to reconnect.

Indeed, much has passed since last we met. I am glad to be back in touch, and honored to share your company even for these brief electronic moments. These orderly masses of 1s and 0s are the thin lifeline between the climbers on the high peak, the rope that binds us together in our human journeys. For the gift of letting me share my words and my music, and my footsteps, I thank you. What may I give you in return?