I don’t know if it was four days of Tylenol

Or fever

Or four days bedridden, . . .

But I saw my whole life in a vision

In a critique

God tried to touch me

I fear I don’t have the strength

To sustain God’s touch

Slipping back may have consequences

Too dire to contemplate

I had a glimpse

I have a vantage-point

I see where I have been

A part of me won’t be the same again


I have the gift of perspective

The gift of years and experiences

The time and capacity for reflection

Fruitful reflection to realize

The fulfillment I have . . .

I have struggled to get somewhere

And with the struggle over I have found myself nowhere

And I have grit my teeth

Steadfastly endured miserable circumstances

I have passed time—years—just getting by

Getting by, not living—quelle dommage, pity, year after year, getting by


Smoking cigar after cigar

Not even paying attention to the life going by


Hours, years did go by

Alone, impoverished

Then today . . .  and I have fulfillment

When did it come?  For how long has it been?

A calling,–is it that?—music, friendships, love

Volunteer responsibilities, travel, lifelong learning, research work


Embraced in rich connections

Purpose, position, ownership

Comfort, contentment without complacency,


I have the gift of perspective

Time and perspective and reflection

Giving me wonder at what I have, have humbly been granted

Granted with the time I have


We live in this world

The only one we know

We make arrangements

Build hopes, aspirations

Purchase goods

To fit our life here

In a world which is only leased to us, at best

For an unknown term

Certainly, some of our efforts in this world


To the other world

Certainly, much will not

“We come into the world, and we go out of the world”

The Mayans remember each morning

Certainly, we must provide for life here

Properly understood


I limped and struggled through it all

In an unforgiving, uncaring world

“Punch a time clock,” the world insisted

But I can’t even wake up, get out of bed

–I’ve slept my own weekends away—

What have I done to deserve this?

Punch a time clock

So I limped and struggled through it all

I had to

Some would say my work was half-assed

Not knowing, not caring about the extent of my effort to get out of bed

“I can’t see your bipolar disorder.”

Don’t care

Punch a time clock


When I last blogged about my new CD of original music, the disk was only available on CD Baby.  It is now available on most online venues: Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music, CD Baby and others.  Music has been very much a part of my life, though I haven’t made a vocation of it.  Keeping music private means that I don’t have to follow the dictates of a music professor, I don’t need to follow popular taste;–I write what flows from my heart and delights my ear.  I hope it delights your ear, too, and moves your heart.  I have two songs from my CD uploaded in the music tab on my web page, with a slide show about Carol and me.  I invite you to check out these musical offerings.  And if you like what you hear, I invite you to visit my onepage:


From my heart to yours.


Have you ever read people as a book?

Have you ever watched people as a screen—TV or computer?

Have you ever constructed theories about people?

Hated people?

Without ever interacting, talking with them?


We had been noticing them,

Carol and I

The regulars, but who seemed a little off


As if they were balancing on the edge of a cliff

Or swimming, teetering

Dancing in the same places on the floor

Night after night

We guessed about them,

But didn’t talk to them


And then I did.

Adoption, foster homes, homeless

High a lot

Flat affect, rarely smiling



Biblically literate

An artist

Single parent

Intelligence, intellect

Some talk of Swedenborg


I work so hard to attain

Degrees, my condo, car, career, my musical projects

Volunteer commitments

Affections for useful activities



Effort to learn right and wrong

True and false

And do


And yet . . .

The blues bar


Night after night

A hang out

A home



Music and Mysticism

When I was young, and contemplating my career path, I was deeply involved in music.  My first inclination was to pursue a musical career.  But there was another Voice calling me.  Equally powerful as was music, I heard a call to professional ministry.  I talked with accomplished musicians who told me they, too, had considered priesthood or ministry.  Many other musicians I knew had mystical leanings.  Ultimately, I followed the Voice calling me to ministry, protecting my other love in my own private world.  I say that I protected my other love because I didn’t have to answer to anyone about my music–not music professors, not producers, not popular taste, no one could interfere with my artistic freedom.  Now, I’m making public my private world with a CD of my original compositions.  This disk brings to the public my private world, and echoes back to the road I didn’t take—at the time.

After five years of ecstasy, agony, anxiety, peace, conflict, community, connections, sadness, happiness, grief, joy, and money, my CD is ready!  Some of this city’s best musicians play on it.  It has vocals, horns, real strings, real rhythm section, me on keys and a vocal.  From my heart to yours:


I hope that you enjoy this work of soul.