… my old friend
I’ve come to type
on you again…

Well, hasn’t it been a while since I’ve frequented these parts?

Of course, there are rational explanations:

  • I’ve just completed my first full length musical release, Sparse (stay tuned, much more info in the coming weeks)
  • I completed the first 20,000 words of the new novel, but wanted to let it simmer for a while
  • Christmas, a trip back to the UK, and all that that entails

But we are far from rational creatures. And I know that:

  • I needed to take a break from words, after releasing two novels and three screenplays in 2010/11
  • I felt the music brewing for the whole of the year and, finally, in October could hold it back no longer
  • I was so sick of the information and objectionable US Presidential election that I just couldn’t put anything out

So I retreated for a while.

And I recommend seclusion for all that have the courage to try it.

That’s right, courage.

It’s hard to let yourself float. It really is.

A little over two years ago, I stopped wearing a watch. I don’t miss it. But it was an adjustment, given that I’d been conditioned by nearly two decades in the corporate machine. This latest sojourn was a little of that same self-adjustment.

And I feel better having done it.


So there I was, diving back into my own recharge mode, enjoying family, friends, the muse, and all of a sudden, got two approaches relating to jobs – big, good-paying jobs. My centre was tested, for sure; I didn’t take either job. I could have. Of course, I could have.

Anyone else’s normality would have seen them taking the job.

But I couldn’t become that shape again.

Those slumped shoulders, weighed down by seeing so, so much broken in the machine. Those concrete legs, holding every truth I wanted to speak, yet held back. That increasing lean to the right as I protected what I truly was inside.

I didn’t take the jobs.

I finished my record.

And I signed up to write an independent movie.

And I helped start a local independent bookstore.

And I started helping writers overcome their own blockages.

And I arranged to run the first of what will be a series of workshops.

And I acted in a national television commercial.

And I helped someone survive cancer.

And now I’m helping her complete a documentary about her journey.

[PLEASE donate at that link. $5, 10, 15, 20, 100, 1000 – we need to make this film a reality!]

It’s amazing how much can happen when I try to do nothing. Or, more accurately I think, it’s amazing what can happen when you open yourself to the energy and change you’re meant to be in this world.

Hopefully, it won’t be so long before we meet again.