Tuesday, April 28, 2015

On The Edge Of Adventure

Time is an elusive fox, darting in and out of the shrubs of our existence.

The days are sparks - flying off the heavily hammered, razor point of a fire-forged iron arrow. Highway lines stretch out and then shrink and flip by the eyes like Pacman pellets. The wind beckons us forward, and we worry, and we wipe our eyes un-wet, but we go anyways. Because we have to - and we need to.

It's in me now.

I'm about to embark on a cross-country trek - one that will be epic and of the ages, I'm sure, and there are many elements of it that are unsettling. But beyond the shadow of a doubt, I know I will learn from it, and build upon some musical improvisational skills, and I will see some friendly and much missed faces. And I will grow with and play beside the likes of a new friend named Ali McCormick. Ali is a skilled and energetic songwriter, and she is from a region of Ontario that I highly adore - Lanark.

The waves of events have been crashing upon me, and with my waxed board of activities, I've been trudging against a wild wake. Trying to find the right one. Slingin' taxes. Writing bios. Posting dim-lit thoughts. Sleeping, Waking. Repeating. Carving riffs out of fretboards. Searching for harmonies on a vocal plane of throat-fire.

Our stories are being made whether we like it or not - in both my life and yours - and we need to get with the making.

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