(re)Discovering My Past

Written on December 17, 2016. 

I’m on a road trip back home to Mississippi to see some family and my sister put in my own CD of the songs I’ve written and while she’s singing along merrily, I am having a strong wave of gratitude passing through me. I began writing lyrics when I was about 8 years ago and began writing music when I started playing guitar at 14. I am so grateful that music came to me. I know that I am simply a channel of divine Truth and I am so thankful that I have this outlet to express that truth with. 


Only those close to me know much about my past, but I experienced a deep and profound sadness from age 14 until about 19. I recently found my old journals from that time period and had a very healing time reading through them. I spoke of so much existential pain and sorrow; I spoke of feeling sad and not knowing why, I questioned Life itself and grasped for my purpose like I was falling off a cliff and reaching for some tree root to save me. I wrote about how I had lost myself, searching for it in relationships, drugs, and alcohol. I also got to read about my findings, my rediscovery of myself in my art, in music, in Nature, in the all pervading Love that began to fill me. 

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As I read the words I’d written almost 9 years ago, I remembered my study of quantum physics and how it changed my reality, to realize that I could change my reality. I remembered how the colors of the leaves on the trees seem to grow brighter, the edges around objects seemed more crisp. One line that I wrote really stuck out for me: “I realize now that if my mind was strong enough to believe my own delusions, then it is strong enough to remove myself from them.” So true! 

It may sound strange but I am so thankful for that time I spent inside my “cave” as I liked to call it, inside the confusing twists and turns of my own mind, for it was there that I grew, the frequent tears formed ridges on my cheeks that only added strength. I grew out of my cynicism and self loathing into a creature made of love AND pain. Now I listen to myself singing, “We exist to resist the pain that sooner or later we must face. Rise up, stand up and Be. Feel the strength of your silence.”

I sing my songs and raise my face to the sun and hear the prayers snaking through my veins and from my voice, feeling eternally grateful for all of the pain that I’ve faced and for the way it transforms into love, leaving little lessons along the way. 

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