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Photo by Kristopher Roller on Unsplash.com Like the title of the song “Back On The Street Again,” we are all, in a sense, starting over thanks to the CV pandemic. It has caused untold suffering for millions of people around the world. And yet, in the midst of this dark night of the soul, it is becoming obvious that we will emerge, like a new-born butterfly, into the sunlight. We will resurface in these baptismal waters with more compassion, new skills, and better ways of doing things large and small. “Back On the Street Again” originated on an album simply titled “ Steve Gillette .” Released in 1968 by Vanguard Records, Gillette’s debut album became an immediate success. Many of his songs have since been recorded by other well-known folk music artists. “Back On the Street Again” and “ Darcy Farrow ” are two of Steve’s most popular songs. I’m also a big fan of two other songs on the album: “ A Number And A Name ” and “ The Bells In The Evening .” Enough said. Here’s my cover of “Back On The Street Again.” #phoenix #resilience #acousticguitar #sixtiesmusic #folkmusic #overcoming #Pandemic #coronavirus #songwriter #songs #artists #folkguitar #skills #playing #singing #perseverance

There once was a Goddess who preferred to talk to fully grown trees rather than people. While searching for a splendiferous tree, she instead encountered a gnarled tree stump–a whole forest of them, actually. The Goddess, named Marsha, was quite young. She was one-hundred-and sixty-two years old, which, in Goddess terms, is merely a teenager. Her parents, Atara and Gringold, lived in another quadrant of the galaxy. They had not heard from their daughter in over one hundred years. Obviously, they were very concerned about Marsha’s welfare. Since there isn’t space in a blog to artfully parse out Marsha’s backstory, I will give you the bare bones and then move on. For starters, Marsha really isn’t Marsha. Atara and Gringold gave her a proper Goddess name: Savasanti. It means “Beautiful Peace.” Like almost everything her parents tried to give her, Marsha discarded the name in favor of something else. This is not to say there is anything wrong with the name Marsha. I am only pointing out that it is unheard of to refuse a given name in the world of Gods and Goddesses. As the dual suns beamed down on the idyllic world of Aleya, an argument ensued between Marsha and her parents in the parlor of their majestic mansion built on the highest bows of a giant Grazanga tree. (The fruit of a Grazanga tree resembles a football-sized pasticcio nut, by the way. They make a delicious and nourishing grab-and-go meal for a God or Goddess, either raw, roasted, salted or unsalted). Shouting on Aleya is a rare event, especially between parents and their children. Nevertheless, the shouting between Marsha and her parents was audible on the marshy plain thirty feet below and outward to the neighboring tree mansions. As the conflict escalated, Atara and Gringold reddened with embarrassment and anger while Marsha’s spirits soared. Marsha always felt powerful when she irritated her parents. Whereas they had every right to lose their tempers, Atara and Gringold, like the good parents they were, did not. However, the decibel count of the exchange increased to a level where it became necessary for a peace abiding neighbor to call the tree police to restore the tranquil vibrations of the neighborhood. The arrival of the tree police only served to heighten Atara and Gringold’s level of frustration and embarrassment with their daughter. Exasperated, Atara cut Marsha off in the middle of a tirade. “As long as you live in this house, you will obey our rules.” Marsha looked back at her mother, literally fuming with her long auburn locks ablaze. “Our patience with you is at and end,” Atara added. “Your father and I expect you to curb your insolence, your selfishness, and your complete lack of gratitude.” “If your behavior doesn’t improve,” Gringold said, “I will send you to Marsh Point where they will teach you discipline and how to act like a proper Goddess. This is your last warning, Savasanti.” Marsha, as she was known to herself and a handful of insolent friends, glared defiantly at her parents. After a few tense seconds, Atara implored, “If you won’t listen to us, talk to the trees. They are wise.” “The trees are stupid. They say the same things you say.” And with that, Marsha stormed out of the room trailing behind her a long mane of smoke. The next day, Marsha abruptly left home for worlds unknown. Due to her premature departure, Marsha never learned the arcane secrets of navigating billions of light years across the galaxy and landing gracefully at a pre-determined destination. She arrived in Earth orbit, because the planet looked inviting from outer space, only to plunge like a meteor into the sands of the Gobi Desert in a failed attempt to land smoothly. I assure you that “failed attempt” is an exceedingly kind description of the event. Marsha spent nearly a century at the bottom of a deep crater gouged out of the shifting and scorching sands of the Gobi Desert. The immense force of the impact left Marsha in a coma for most of this time. To be exact, the impact left Marsha’s cells in a coma because she no longer had a body. Her tissues lay scattered across a concave pit in the darkened depths of the crater. Over time, Marsha’s body reassembled, cell by cell. When her body was whole again, it still required a decade to recover from the shock of the explosive landing. And then one day, Marsha’s eyes blinked open. She remembered nothing. She wondered, Who am I? What am I doing here . For days, Marsha lay in the pit of the crater. Memories fluttered into her brain, slowly at first, and then quickly, like a drought stricken lake fully restored in a deluge of spring rain. She knew who she was and where she had come from. With every beat of her heart, Marsha grew more curious about the planet she had landed on. She knew there was more to the new world than the desolate hole she found herself in. She remembered seeing lush land masses and vast oceans from her orbit in outer space. Without another thought, Marsha jumped into the embrace of the darkness and flew out of the crater into the harsh sun and endless sands of the desert. In any new situation, the first thing to do was to talk to a wise tree. This was especially true if you were not fond of people, as in Marsha’s case. Any dummy knew speaking to a tree first in a new situation was the smart move. And Marsha was no dummy. She had told her parents that trees were stupid just to aggravate them. She kept flying until the land below turned from deathly pale sands into thriving shades of verdant green. After several clumsy and near catastrophic attempts to lose altitude, Marsha managed to ease into a cruising altitude near the planet’s surface. Ahead, she spotted a menagerie of trees in all shapes and sizes. Perfect. It appeared to be some sort of tree garden. She landed in a field of pink roses. There were no people or houses of any kind in sight. Marsha figured she had come to a public park, or perhaps the reserve of a very rich family. Whatever the case, Marsha felt safe enough to lie down and take a nap. The long flight combined with a century of bodily dismemberment and reconstitution had taken its toll. Marsha had no idea how long she had slept. She awoke in the dead of night staring at a canopy of stars overhanging a ghostly full moon. The sight reminded Marsha of the museums her parents had taken her to as a child. Those were happier days, centuries ago and billions of miles away. It was time to begin her new life. No sense laying around and reminiscing. Lifting herself up from her bed of roses, Marsha marched towards the tree garden. And then, Marsha saw something grotesque. She had never seen anything like it before. A ring of tree stumps surrounded the tree garden. Upon reaching the ring of stumps, she stopped suddenly. “Who would do this and why ?” she wondered aloud. “It’s unfair,” the nearest tree trunk replied. “We grew too tall and blocked the view of the garden. So the humans cut us down.” “But–“ “I know. It’s abominable. The humans can’t communicate with us. Don’t ask me why. My name is Earl, by the way.” “Marsha. Pleased to meet you.” “Are you from around here?” “No. I’m from the other side of the galaxy. I’m a Goddess.” “You don’t say.” The tree trunk made clicking sounds, as if it were thinking. “Maybe you can help me,” Earl the tree trunk said after the clicking stopped. “I’ve heard that Goddesses have powers. Is it true?” “I’ve just met you and it sounds like you want something from me.” “I need help badly. Look at me.” “I suppose you want me to restore you to your former glory. That’s a big ask.” “What can I give you in return. I once had powers of my own.” “Can you show me what I look like?” Like most Goddesses, Marsha’s outer beauty was beyond compare. She was, however, unaware of her looks. You see, there are no mirrors on the planet Aleya. No one needed mirrors because the Gods and Goddesses on Aleya were all astoundingly beautiful. And looking at oneself in a mirror was frowned upon. “I can do that if you restore me to my ‘former glory,’ as you said so poetically. How long has it been since you’ve seen yourself, if you don’t mind me asking?” “I do mind. Do we have a deal?” “Yes. Absolutely. If I could pinch myself, I would do it, to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.” “You aren’t dreaming. I’m sympathetic to your cause. Where I come from, no one would dare to cut down a tree.” Earl breathed a deep sigh. “That’s reassuring.” And so, Marsha raised Earl the tree trunk back to his former glory as the other tree trunks looked on in astonishment. They all began to clamor, “me too.” Marsha ignored their cries. Business was business. It was time to collect her boon. She flew to one of Earl’s uppermost branches where she made a graceful landing. “Alright, show me what I look like,” Marsha said impatiently. “Happy to oblige,” Earl chirped. “Come closer and look deeply into the knot.” Leaning forward, Marsha gazed into the whorl embedded in Earl’s skin, or more correctly, Earl’s bark. The whorl transformed into a mirror. Upon seeing the image in the mirror, Marsha gasped and turned away. “That can’t be what I look like,” she said in a tremulous voice. “It’s what you look like on the inside,” Earl sneered. “Best case recalcitrant. Worst case, evil. I’m leaning towards evil. You don’t deserve your powers. I’m going to take them. Then I’ll rain hell down on the humans who reduced me to a stump.” Before she could move, Marsha watched the bony ends of branches enter her arms and legs, and then her mouth. She tried to scream, but it came out as an impotent gargle. The pain was excruciating. It felt like the invading branches had set her blood vessels on fire. As her strength ebbed, the same thoughts pounded in Marsha’s mind like a kettle drum, over and over again. I should have listened . Why didn’t I listen? A faint voice whispered in her ear. It sounded, no, it couldn’t be, but yes, it did. It sounded like her mother, Atara, speaking to her with some good advice for a change. Marsha set herself ablaze. The torturous branches inside her body recoiled and withdrew, setting Marsha free. Free to fall. Marsha spread her arms to avoid another crash landing. “Without anyone nearby to dowse the fire,” Marsha screamed at Earl,” “you will surely burn to ashes for the wind to scatter into oblivion; a fitting end for a criminal tree. A nearby tree in the garden called to her. “What do you want?” “To apologize,” the stately tree said. “The humans cut down the circle of trees for a reason, but not because they grew too tall. They were infected with a virus that would have killed us if the humans had left them alone. I’m sorry your path led you this way.” “Thank you,” Marsha said. “I, too, regret finding my way here. No offense to you.” She waived at the tree. “Live long and prosper, as someone once said.” Then, Marsha looked skyward, and flew far away, determined to find her way home. #SpaceTravel #stories #survival #desert #trees #interstellarspacetravel #planets #galaxy #heroine #Gods #beauty #nature #treegarden #Goddess #fiction #lifeonotherplanets #fantasy

Kate Wolf came to prominence during a ten year period from 1975 to 1985. Tragically, Leukemia brought Kate’s life and singer/songwriting career to a premature end at the age of forty-four. In the brief time she had, Kate managed, in her gentle way, to become a major influence on the folk scene with songs like, “ Give Yourself to Love ,” “ Across the Great Divide ,” “ Green Eyes ,” “ September Song ,” and many more. In all, she wrote over two hundred songs, a prodigious output considering Kate’s foreshortened career. The appeal of Wolf’s music is the same today as it was when she released her first album on her Owl Records label more than 30 years ago. Millions of fans around the world remain loyal to Kate and her music. She continues to attract new fans, like me, with her abundant legacy. I want to thank Gena Netten for introducing me to “Give Yourself to Love” and the incredibly beautiful music of Kate Wolf. #solosinging #guitarstyle #acousticguitar #folkmusic #musicvideo #musicalperformance #folkartist #fingerpicking #guitarsolo #video #perform #folksinger #sing #solo #guitar #songwriter #performance #singing #musician

“The path forward may sometimes be unclear. And it may be messy. But the shared heart is calling, and we have an opportunity to make lasting shifts toward love and justice in our world.” Kristi Nelson/Executive Director of  Gratefulness.org On a rainy day there is no place to go Except inside To a safer place To a better place A place where I can spend days basking in meditation Soaring close to the Heart Sun Inevitably, I must arise and live in the world Where the only way to move forward is to take a leap Into the deep unknown Into who knows what Or where I don’t want to jump I’m not looking for trouble Or confusion Or more suffering But walking in weary circles leads to “nowheresville” As my Dad used to say And holding on doesn’t work So, a path cluttered with dried leaves is unveiled Beckoning me towards a seemingly un-crossable crossroad A paradox or a dilemma The wise ones say, “Be who you are where you are” Really? What if that place is constantly under water? Unless I do something Like making lemonade from demon lemons I want to feel real love I want to feel real peace I want to feel real joy If I take the leap Will I find these delights? Within reasonable bounds (if reason is necessary) And so, I am pushed by unseen forces To the edge of a cliff Where I must decide Without knowing Photo By Pagie Paige On Unsplash #decisions #security #darkness #daring #lightness #unknown #risk #fearoffailure #Joy #demon #personalgrowth #Faith #meditation #reflections #passage #peace #destiny #love #innerpeace #cliffs #poems #heart #safety #musings #light #leapoffaith #fear #holding

Ever felt like you were in a pitch-black closet fumbling for a light switch you couldn’t find? I’ve felt that way many times. More than ever in the last four years. I was afraid four more years of The Trump Administration would drive this nation into chaos, uncontrollable violence, and eventual destruction. I’ve never been this concerned about an election before. I thought our country was teetering on the edge of the cone of an active volcano. Below us, bubbling lava and acrid, poisonous smoke billowing upwards. If we had taken a wrong step, we would have fallen to our collective deaths in the seething lava a mile below. Fortunately, there are enough sane and prescient people left in this country to look beyond their limited perspectives and see the big picture. An image of a large, rudderless sailing vessel comes to mind, headed in a zig-zag direction towards a swirling whirlpool in the ocean. We just missed sailing straight into that black hole. Instead, we corrected our course. We turned the lights back on. Whew! That was a close one. I’m particularly encouraged by the stance the Biden Administration will take concerning the environment. I’m encouraged that General Motors recently dropped out of the lawsuit Trump initiated against California regarding motor vehicle emission standards. This is an early example that we are regaining our sanity. We are already playing catch up with the programs needed to foster and enforce clean energy development and greenhouse gas emissions. As it stands, we are losing the battle to save the environment. Radical action and a new level of commitment are required to reverse the trends. Now, at least, we have hope, not only concerning the environment. We have hope that caring attention and fresh ideas will be applied in many areas plaguing life in these United States, starting with an intelligent, cohesive, and coordinated governmental response to the Corona crisis. I could go on, but I’ll spare you. If you didn’t like the way the election turned out, then fine. You are entitled to your vote and your opinion. If you wanted more lunacy, then I’m sorry. We’re not going there. If you don’t want to get with the new program, no problem. It’s a free country. JUST PLEASE: DON’T GET IN THE WAY. And, if you liked the election results, let’s get back to civility. Let’s put aside our differences. (There’s nothing wrong with healthy, respectful debate). Let’s work together towards a brighter future. Congratulations on pulling off this nail-biter. Good work and…Shine on. #harmony #nationalsecurity #security #Corona #cohesion #wellness #intelligence #violence #prosperity #wholeness #coronavirus #wellbeing #discernment #climate #government #enlightened #peace #presidentialelection #environmentalcrisis #progressive #environment #administration #enlightenedleadership #cooperation #lightanddark #climatechange

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.* I wonder what secrets they keep. The moon paints the leaves with a blood-red stain. If I go in there, will I come out again? Do thirsty vampires await? Are the seductive voices I hear bait? A ravishing woman appears from out of the air. A second ago, there was no one there. Her slender fingers with crimson tips beckon me. She leans casually in a flowing negligee against a tree. I have never witnessed such radiance before. Her flaming red hair and porcelain skin are features to adore. My senses awaken with overpowering lust. She tells me her name, Melinda, and asks for my trust. Can I believe my eyes or Melinda herself? She stares at me confidently, embodying love itself. What lies beneath such perfection? To Melinda, am I just a confection? My mind tells me these images are wisps of smoke. In my heart the hellish fires of desire are stoked. My right foot steps forward all on its own. In the windswept fields of my soul, the seeds of madness are sown. DISCOVER SCARLET AMBROSIA–BLOOD IS THE NECTAR OF LIFE *Excerpt from the Robert Frost poem “Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening.” #discretion #illusion #stories #dreams #soul #perception #sex #beauty #woods #alluring #love #imagination #erotica #morality #poems #judgement #heart #fear #temptation #danger #fantasy

“Starry, starry night/ Paint your palette blue and grey/ Look out on a summer’s day/ With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.” Those words came to Don McLean as he looked at Vincent Van Gogh’s 1889 painting “The Starry Night.” Soon, he had a masterpiece of his own: “Vincent,” a 1972 hit that he released right on the heels of his defining epic “American Pie.” Like Van Gogh’s painting, Mclean’s “Vincent” has touched a wide range of creative spirits over the last 50 years. The song, the painting, and the book “Dear Theo,” written by Van Gogh’s brother, have certainly touched my heart again and again. I’ve always thought that Vincent’s style was at least in part inspired by his mental illness. To me, the brush strokes reflect an altered state of perception similar to the hallucinogenic patterns seen under the influence of Mescaline or LSD. Van Gogh labored in obscurity until his self-inflicted death at the age of thirty-seven. He sold only a few of his paintings during his lifetime. Today, Van Gogh is a household word, and his paintings each sell for fifty million dollars or more. “The Starry Night” is one of Van Gogh’s most famous paintings. Here’s my interpretation of Mclean’s homage to the masterpiece. #colorpalette #songwriters #folkpopmusic #DonMclean #acousticguitar #Vincent #folkmusic #StarryStarryNight #entertainers #solovocals #popmusic #impressionists #songs #oilpaintings #vocals #impressionism #TheStarryNight #folkguitar #sing #paintings #famouspaintings #VanGogh #singing #VincentVanGogh #sologuitar

Six years ago, I attended a seminar presented by Saniel Bonder titled “The Sun in Your Heart is Rising–Activating Your Embodied Awakening, Wholeness, and Unique Purpose.” Nine people attended the five-day event at Kripalu Yoga Center in western Massachusetts. One of the exercises in the seminar is called “Heart Seat Share.” Each person in the group speaks for seven minutes about what is going on in their lives with time allotted for feedback from the teacher and group members. I’ve decided to revisit this post, polish it up, and hope it brings you some inspiration. Here I am. It’s my time to share. I imagine myself walking down a circular staircase in my throat. I arrive on the first floor of my chest cavity. Leaving the staircase on the bottom floor, I encounter a winding corridor with no doors or branches. At least I don’t have to decide which way to go, because I basically have no idea. I just need to put one foot in front of the other and have faith that my feet are taking me where I want to go. Finally, I see a doorway in the distance. The overhead lighting becomes increasingly bright as I reach my destination. It’s a wooden door painted gold with an intricate star pattern splashed on the surface. What does it mean? Maybe it’s just a goddamned ornament put there to look mysterious. Who knows? I decide it looks inviting. I grab the brass handle, turn it, and nothing happens. The door is firmly locked. I knock a few times and wait. Seconds go by and then a full minute. No response. “Anybody home?” I call out. Total silence. Not even the sound of air-conditioning. “You know, I’ve come a long way to get here. The least you can do is answer your fancy door.” I’ve traveled this way many times before, but I always get lost. Not this time. I’m convinced this is the real deal. I’ve been told by numerous teachers that someone or something dwells deep within the recesses of the heart. I’ve always believed this to be true. I never doubted it. Yet here I am, standing around like an idiot. I’ve heard some vague rumblings from time to time from the other side of the door. I’ve had a few inklings, maybe even heard a faint burbling sound, but that’s about it. “This is getting embarrassing,” I say to the elaborate, mysterious door. “I’m here in front of the class, and I need to sound halfway intelligent. Can you please give me some material to work with?” “Like what?” a voice says from the other side in a slightly irritated tone. I almost fall down.  These two words are more than I’ve heard in thirty years.  It’s a clear, unmistakable, somewhat irritated voice.  I quickly regroup before the voice loses interest.  I must take advantage of this opportunity.  I have to get right to the point.  I imagine whoever is speaking to me is quite busy.  I’m not even going to imagine if it has a shape.  I can’t risk wasting its time. “Okay,” I begin. “Can you tell me why we haven’t met yet?” “It’s a very long story all having to do with you that we can’t get into right now because it would exceed your share time.” “Okay, okay. Well, then, can you tell me when it might be possible for us to meet.” “I really can’t believe you haven’t figured this out yet,” the voice answers wearily. “I suppose I’ll have to spell it out for you.” There is a long pause before the voice speaks again. “You aren’t ready to meet me. And PUHLEASE, don’t ask me when you’ll be ready. Another pause. “You’ll be ready when you’re ready.” “I feel like I’m getting ready,” I say like a little boy holding out a shiny apple for the teacher. “Good. Keep it up. Let me give you one word of advice: Patience. Everything is timing. Have you heard that one?” “Of course.” “Then practice it. I wait for more words of wisdom. There are none forthcoming. I’m suddenly impelled to ask, “Is that it?” I wait anxiously for a response. When none comes, I turn to leave. Then, from behind me, I hear: “If it makes you feel any better, you’re right on schedule. THE SUN IS ACTUALLY RISING IN YOUR HEART. As a matter of fact, it’s rising in everyone’s heart, some faster than others. Pray that you are one of the faster ones. Remember these words, David: “WISDOM IS EASIER TO ATTAIN IF YOU TRY VERY HARD NOT TO BE OBTUSE.” “Now, If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Hopefully, we’ll meet again in less than a few hundred years.” #feeling #godconsciousness #stories #memories #happiness #consciousness #travels #Joy #purpose #share #retreat #peace #love #journeys #JosephCampbell #sharing #imagination #discussion #mutuality #inspiration #discovery #herosjourney #selfdiscovery #awakening

“With a voice that has all the sweetness of a California morning and the loneliness of the sea beating against its rocky shores, it’s a mystery why Kate Wolf went unnoticed for so long. Listening to her songs, you never feel like you’re hearing studio recordings made many years ago. Instead, it feels like the singer’s sitting next to you, picking a guitar and telling stories near to her heart. With just a few words, Kate Wolf creates a great sense of intimacy.”* Certain songs speak to me. Kate Wolf’s “The Trumpet Vine” is one of them. It typifies the aching beauty of her music. Here’s my cover of the song. *Excerpt from an article written by Kasper Nijsen #seventiesmusic #intimacy #eightiesmusic #acousticguitar #memories #friendship #guitartechnique #loneliness #coversong #nostalgia #musicalpoetry #popmusic #guitarpicking #songs #poetry #friends #solovocal #guitarmusic #sologuitar

I first heard “Cornflower Blue” as the opening song on Kate Wolf’s 1983 double album “Give Yourself to Love.” As I listened to the album many times over, “Cornflower Blue” grew on me (no pun intended). I began to appreciate the exquisite beauty in the lyrics and in Kate’s lovely singing voice. Oftentimes, songs like this one will find their way into my heart and I feel compelled to play them myself. With this song, I had my doubts. The chances were good that I might not pull it off. Learning how to play “Cornflower Blue” like Kate does was like learning how to walk again. The style is completely counterintuitive to what I’m used to, but I’m glad I made the effort. I hope my cover of the song conveys some of the mystery and beauty of the original. #reallove #lyricalpoetry #lookingback #acousticguitar #fallinginlove #inlove #coversong #deepinlove #musicalpoetry #guitarpicking #guitarsolo #vocalsolo #beautyinlyrics #songs #lovesongs #love #beautifulmusic #beautifulvoice #guitarstyles #singing

“Lay me Down Easy” is technically a blues song. To me, the song sounds upbeat with a whisper of the blues in the background. And there’s definitely an element of wry humor in the mix. Maybe “bitter sweet” is a better description of “Lay Me Down Easy.” I’ve been playing many of Kate Wolf’s songs lately. The beauty of Kate’s music steals its way into my heart the more I listen to one of her songs. As illustrated by the photos, I’m feeling the joy and the love in the song more than the backdrop of the blues. We must continually choose love in order to nourish our souls and drive away fear, just as we eat to nourish our bodies and drive away hunger. ELISABETH KÜBLER-ROSS AND DAVID KESSLER #fantasies #bluesguitar #performances #vocalwithguitar #acousticguitar #happycouple #happiness #blues #lyrics #songlyrics #newlove #sunshine #poeticlyrics #reflections #songs #entertainment #poetry #love #folkguitar #sing #openfield #concerts

I choose to wander in sunlight to avoid the riptide of darkness threatening to engulf our world. I prefer to see and hear beauty. I endeavor to open my heart to love. Not the love that comes and goes. Rather, to eternal love. I am human. I need love and beauty as much as air and water. Lately, I’ve been bathing in beauty, love, and light by listening and playing music. Specifically, one person’s music. Listen to my cover of Kate Wolf ‘s “Muddy Roads” recorded on her last album (1986) Poet’s Heart . Tell me what you hear and feel. “When we are connected — to our own purpose, to the community around us, and to our spiritual wisdom — we are able to live and act with authentic effectiveness​.” MALIDOMA PATRICE SOMÉ Gratefulness.org Background Music Credits For Intro Video: The Edge Will Follow by Javolenus (c) copyright 2012 Ethereal Space by Snowflake (c) copyright 2011 Homework by gurdonark (c) copyright 2010 Reverie (small theme) by ghost (c) copyright 2010 #carefree #eightiesmusic #sandandsun #soothingmusic #sunlight #musicvideo #happiness #play #creativity #Joy #songs #beaches #peace #vocals #love #moonlitnight #moonlitbeach #imagination #nature #calm #poems #playing #inspiration #guitarplaying #singing #moonlight #videocompositions