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Setting Course— Headed to Principle Gallery, June 2025



Gravity is so strong that space is bent round onto itself, making it rather like the surface of the earth. If one keeps traveling in a certain direction on the surface of the earth, one never comes up against an impassable barrier or falls over the edge, but eventually comes back to where one started.

–Stephen Hawking, A Brief History of Time



I am not sure that the passage above from Stephen Hawking is perfect for what I am seeing in this new painting but for this morning it will do just fine. The painting, headed to the Principle Gallery for my June show there, is titled Setting Course and is 24″ by 24″ on canvas.

Though from its outward appearance the sailboat here seems to imply setting a course to some distant destination, that is not necessarily how I read it for myself. As it is with much of my work, I see all journeying and searching not as being outward but rather inward.

The answers we think can only be found by seeking outside ourselves are often contained within. Often it is the contrasting and gained experience we find on the outward journey that provides the clarity to recognize the answers within. We find that we didn’t know what we thought we knew, didn’t want what we thought we wanted, weren’t what we thought we were, and so on.

We may voyage around the world but it usually ends, as Hawking points out, with us coming back to where we started– the destination within ourselves.

I see this painting and its interwoven nature of the inward and outward as another form of the Entanglement that is the theme for this year’s exhibit. We are contained in everything and, as a result, become the destination for our every journey.

Every course we set leads back to us.

Okay, my head hurts a little now. Maybe I should have just said that I like this painting simply because I deeply feel its colors and forms and that the boat here makes me think of living a conscious life of self-reliance and self-determination.

Maybe even that is too much to say.

How about I just say that there’s something speaks to me, and I hope it says something to you as well?

Kind of a long journey to get back to that, right?

Like the boat here, I am moving on this morning. Here’s a favorite song whose mood   and title feels right for this painting. Plus it feels like perfect fit for a cool, rainy May morning with lots of those same blues and greens outside the window here in the studio. This is Blue in Green from Miles Davis.



Setting Course is included in my exhibit of new work, Entanglement, that opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.



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Betwixt and Between— At Principle Gallery, June 2025



Between two worlds life hovers like a star,
‘Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon’s verge.
How little do we know that which we are!
How less what we may be! The eternal surge
Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar
Our bubbles; as the old burst, new emerge,
Lash’d from the foam of ages; while the graves
Of Empires heave but like some passing waves.

Lord Byron, Don Juan (1819)



I’ve had these lines from Lord Byron in my holster for a long time, waiting for the time when they would mesh with one of my paintings. Today seems like as good a time as any to unleash it.

The painting is Betwixt and Between, a smallish 10″ by 10″ canvas that is included in my upcoming show at the Principle Gallery. It’s easy to see by its sky that it is a prime example of the title for this year’s show, Entanglement.  But it also presents an image of our temporal existence between this physical world and that of the ethereal and raises the question: To which do we truly belong?

Maybe we belong to both, real life examples of Schrodinger’s Cat, existing simultaneously in paradoxical states of being. Or maybe not. Who knows for sure?

These lines from Byron also point out that so much that we exult– money, power, fame, etc.–is meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Like the message of the poem Ozymandias from his good friend P.B. Shelley, Byron says that all empires one day fall and are lost to time and tide, exposing the folly of believing that we can attain an immortality of some sort in this world.

We might write our names on the slate of this world, but that slate is eventually and always wiped clean.

As for the painting itself, I am pleased with its look and feel. It speaks easily and simply to me. For me that’s always a good thing. Stark simplicity was a goal for much of the work in this show. I wanted clarity and didn’t want feeling to get lost in detail. This piece very much reaches that goal, at least in the way I see it. I think there’s a lot to see, feel, and think about in this small painting.

Maybe you will see that as well. Maybe not. Who knows?



Entanglement opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will be in attendance to chat and answer any questions you might have so long as they don’t pertain to advanced mathematics or botany.

I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM. I will also be in attendance at this event, in case you were wondering.

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Wherever the Wind Takes Me – At Principle Gallery, June 2025




It’s hard to tell the difference between sea and sky, between voyager and sea. Between reality and the workings of the heart.

–Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore




This was one of the first pieces completed for my upcoming Principle Gallery exhibit. It pretty much sent me in the direction that had me deciding to focus on the unity and interconnectedness of all energy and things as the theme for the show. It was the painting that spawned the idea of Entanglement as the show’s title. It’s been a favorite for me here in the studio over the seven months or so since it emerged.

It’s called Wherever the Wind Takes Me and is 15″ by 30″ on canvas. The title implies a journey or voyage of some sort and that’s true for the most part. My take on it is that there are all sorts of journeys, some that take you outward to distant shores and some that take you inward to equally distant shores within yourself. Both offer the potential for adventure and discovery of something new and perhaps life-altering.

The other thing that comes to mind for me from this painting, even in its title, is that we often go on such journeys without knowing what it is that we seek. And that is just as it should be because we often can’t recognize what it is that we most need. We think we know but we are often mistaken, especially when our conscious mind has not yet opened and melded with the greater entanglements that surround us.

It is then, when we journey– inward or outward without expectation of answers or discovery–that we may learn what it is that we need most.

It is then that the Entanglement will guide us– in the form of the wind in this painting– to what it is that we unknowingly seek.

In this case, the wind knows just what that is.

That might not make sense to you. It often doesn’t make sense to me. That makes me think I might be on the right track. The wind will let me know…



Here’s a tune that has been in my mind since I woke up this morning and it kind of fits. Kind of. The song is from The Byrds, their cover of Dylan’s You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.



Entanglement opens Friday, June 13 at the Principle Gallery with an Opening Reception from 6-8:30 PM. I will also be giving a Painting Demonstration at the gallery on the following day, Saturday, June 14, from 11 AM until 1 PM.



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The Happy Donor— Rene Magritte



I conceive of the art of painting as the science of juxtaposing colours in such a way that their actual appearance disappears and lets a poetic image emerge. . . . There are no “subjects”, no “themes” in my painting. It is a matter of imagining images whose poetry restores to what is known that which is absolutely unknown and unknowable.

–Rene Magritte, 1967, In a letter two months prior to his death



I am getting ready for my annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery. This year’s edition, Entanglement, my 26th such show at the Alexandria, VA gallery, opens five weeks from today on Friday, June 13th. I will also be doing a Painting Demonstration at the gallery the following Saturday, June 14, from 11AM until 1 PM. There is still a ton of work to be done so I am simply sharing a reworked post from several years back.



The quote above from Belgian Surrealist Rene Magritte reminds me of an instance where I didn’t fully get across what I was trying to communicate in response to a question while speaking to a group. It occurred at a demonstration and talk I gave before a regional arts group consisting of enthusiastic painters, some amateurs and some professional.

While I was working, a question was brought up about the importance of subject. Magritte elegantly stated in his words what I was trying to say that evening, that the purpose of what I was doing was not in the actual portrayal of the object of the painting but in the way it was expressed through color and form and contrast. To me, the subject was not important except as a vehicle for carrying emotion.

Of course, I didn’t state it with any kind of coherence or clarity. Hearing me say that the subject wasn’t important visibly angered the man who was an art teacher and an accomplished lifelong painter of realistic landscapes. He said that the subject was most important in forming your painting. I fumbled around for a bit and don’t think I ever satisfied his question or got across a bit of what I was attempting to say.

I think he was still mad when he left which still bothers me because he was right, of course. Subject is certainly important. It is the artist’s relationship that with the subject and the emotional response it elicits that allows the artist to create this poetry of the unknown, as Magritte may have put it.

While I am not interested in depicting landscapes of specific areas, I am moved by the rolls of hills and fields and the stately personae of trees that populate my work. I believe it comes through in my painting. Yes, I can capture emotion in things that may not have any emotional attachment to me through the way I am painting them, which was part of what I was saying to that man that evening, but it will never be as fully realized as those pieces which consist of things and places in which I maintain a personal relationship. It is always easier to find the poetry of the unknown in those things which we know.

But there is a caveat: The subject is often not the tree or the landscape, as much as it may seem the case. Often, it is the vague poetry made from that tree, the sky, the landscape, or whatever is chosen to paint along with things not visibly apparent that makes up the atmosphere of the painting.

That poetry is the real subject of a painting. 

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Trip the Light Fantastic— Coming to Principle Gallery, June 2025



Come, and trip it as ye go
On the light fantastick toe…

–John Milton, L’Allegro, (1645)



Trip the light fantastic. From Milton’s 1645 poem, it originally meant to dance nimbly. But for some reason, perhaps its phrasing or the derivations of the term over the centuries, it’s a term that summons up all sorts of images in my mind. But for the purpose of the new painting shown here, nimbly dancing might well fit as a description.

Using the phrase as its title definitely came to mind as the painting took on its final form. With the lively, rhythmic spirals and bright undercolor in the sky along with the rolling undulations of the sea, there is a feeling of a dance of sorts in piece for me. Of movement and countermovement, of rhythm matching rhythm and the joy that comes when that movement seemingly becomes effortless.

As though the two rhythms have become one.

As you may know, I am not a sailor. So, I can only imagine that there are those magical moments when the sea, the winds, and the sailor feel as one. I would imagine that would be an exhilarating feeling of unbridled joy and freedom.

That’s what I see in this piece. I feel lightened and brightened by it. But that’s just me…

This painting, Trip the Light Fantastic, is 15″ by 30″ on canvas and is from my annual solo exhibit at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, VA. This year’s exhibit, my 26th there, is titled Entanglement and opens on Friday, June 13. Much of the work in this year’s show deals thematically with the bands and tangles of energy that make up everything, including us in our human form.

Much of it entails representing that energy in the sky of these pieces in a variety of ways– as twisting knot-like ribbons without beginning or end or cacophonous bands that interweave over and under one another. There are also some, such as this painting, that employ colorful rhythmic spirals.

It all makes for a striking look in each piece, one that make me really stop and consider each. The skies are often the central figures in this work, as much as the boat or the Red Tree or the house, and it’s hard to not dwell on finding some sort of meaning in them. There’s an almost meditative, therapeutic feel in many of these pieces for myself, both in the painting and the viewing.

Does that translate to other viewers? I don’t know. And maybe that doesn’t matter in the long run. It felt like I didn’t have any choice but to paint these pieces.  In some weird way, they demanded to be painted at this point in time.

Maybe I needed them for some reason. Some purpose.

I haven’t figured out the why of this. I only have the what at this point. And maybe, like so many things, I will never get the answer I seek. Maybe I am supposed to only ask the question.

If that’s the case, so be it. I am satisfied in continuing my search without answers if every so often I get to trip the light fantastic…

 

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Gaining Understanding— Coming to Principle Gallery, June 2025



“Accustom yourself every morning to look for a moment at the sky and suddenly you will be aware of the air around you, the scent of morning freshness that is bestowed on you between sleep and labor. You will find every day that the gable of every house has its own particular look, its own special lighting. Pay it some heed…you will have for the rest of the day a remnant of satisfaction and a touch of coexistence with nature. Gradually and without effort the eye trains itself to transmit many small delights.”

–Hermann Hesse, My Belief: Essays on Life and Art



I am going to take a short break from the blog to try to catch up on painting and other preparation for my June solo show, Entanglement, at the Principle Gallery. I feel like I am behind schedule but can’t tell if that is reality or just a feeling, maybe a by-product of pre-show anxiety. I just get the sense at the moment that I at least need to feel like I am caught up.

I didn’t want to leave without sharing a new painting from the Principle Gallery show. The piece at the top is one of the smaller paintings, 10″ by 10″ on wood panel, from the exhibit. I call it Gaining Understanding.

I thought the passage above, especially that first sentence, from Hermann Hesse was appropriate for this painting. It also pretty much describes my early morning walk through the woods to the studio, usually in darkness. So often I stop along the way and look through the trees at the sky. The bracing coolness of the forest air on my skin, which is still warm from sleep, is refreshing.

I find that I feel closer to some kind understanding on those days when I start them in this way. I feel sharper, more in tune with something beyond me. It has a calming effect that seems to slow time a bit.

This small painting reflects that feeling for me.

I’m going to leave it at that before taking this short break. Well, I’ll throw in a song as well. This is If I Could Only Fly from the late Blaze Foley. He’s probably not on your radar, unless you’re in Texas or have followed Outlaw Country or Americana music for a long time. Foley died in a shooting in 1989 at the age of 40, never really achieving wider notoriety. But his music lives on, providing a rich legacy, as do the many quirky stories of his life. As the late Townes Van Zandt said of Foley, “He’s only gone crazy once. Decided to stay.” The writing in this song and his enunciation reminds me greatly of the late John Prine which makes sense as Prine recorded Foley’s song Clay Pigeons for a 2006 album.

I’ll be back soon. Thanks!



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Vincent Van Gogh- Memory of the Garden at Etten (1888)



My aim in life is to make pictures and drawings, as many and as well as I can; then, at the end of my life… looking back with love and tender regret, and thinking, ‘Oh, the pictures I might have made!’ But this does not exclude making what is possible…

–Vincent Van Gogh, Letter to Theo van Gogh, 19 November 1883



Love this painting from Vincent Van Gogh with its wonderful color and the abstraction of the forms that comes from eliminating the horizon line. It was a piece that came to mind when I ran across this passage from Van Gogh. The words reminded me of something else, a thought that has been on my mind in recent times.

I was asked at my Gallery Talk at the Principle Gallery this past September [2019] if I ever had thoughts of retiring from my painting career. I think I made a bit of a joke about it, saying that I couldn’t afford to retire and would no doubt die while working away at a painting.

And that’s most likely true. I couldn’t imagine ever saying I am done as a painter.

It goes back to Van Gogh’s words above. I still see my artistic future brighter than my past, still envision important projects and better works to come. I still see my best work as being in the future, not dwelling in the distant past.

I can’t imagine that feeling ever changing. I can see myself on the day of my death, if I am capable of taking a moment to reflect on that day, will have that same regret that Van Gogh expressed: Oh, the pictures I might have made!

That being said, I must get to work. I am not retired yet and there are pictures to be made. The future is calling.



I have a few things that need to be done so I am running the post above from five years back. There are a couple of things to add to this post. The Van Gogh quote was taken from a wonderful letter to his brother, Theo, that addresses another question that has often hung with me over the years, that being whether or not I am an artist. I like Van Gogh’s answer that he would rather spend his time thinking about painting than using it to worry about labels or what he might or might not be. That’s pretty much where I have ended up after all these years, not giving a damn what label other might pin on me. I used to worry about whether I deserved to call myself an artist or even what to call whatever style my work might be. I’ll just do what I do and let others sort it out for themselves, if that’s what they want to do.

Let’s also add a song to this mashup. Here’s a song from Leonard Cohen (yay, Canada!) that I have shared a couple of times but by other artists. They were great covers from Willie Nelson and Tom Jones. I loved both but there’s often nothing like the original thing.

Okay. Got to run– the future is still calling…



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Waiting For the End of the World – At Principle Gallery, June 2025



Someone called from across the water
‘Are you coming off that island soon?’
I hollered back
‘No, not yet—
I’m waiting for the end of the world.’
Then I turned back to watch the sky
As its currents and clouds
Surged and volleyed
In every way we know
And some we don’t know
And I thought to myself
With the sky racing around me
‘What a fine day it is–
Waiting for the end of the world.’



At the West End Gallery painting demo this past Saturday, someone asked when I titled my paintings, if I ever had title in mind as I worked on a piece. I said that generally it came after the painting was complete, when it was fully formed and whatever it was going to say was written on its surface. I didn’t say it quite that way, of course. 

I added to my answer and spoke about the painting at the top, a small 6″ by 12″ canvas, that is headed to the Principle Gallery for my June show there. I described that, while painting this piece, the verse above came into my head and was all I could think of as I worked. Shifting colors and words, it was a strange collaboration of thoughts for me, as I simultaneously edited and adjusted both the painting and the verse as I worked.

It made the words and the image bind one to the other in my mind.

Now, I realize the title may not seem compatible with the painting at first glance. I initially worried that the title was out of step with the theme of my upcoming show, Entanglement, which is about the unity of all energies and the idea that there is no beginning or end.

But what I see in the painting is a kind of tranquil acceptance of whatever hand fate deals in the here and now. An acceptance that allows you to recognize and appreciate the beauty of this moment and place.

A feeling of oneness with the universe, realizing that the end of the world is not the end of being. 

And that thought is completely in line with the theme of the show.

It’s a simple piece that packs a lot into a small space. But sometimes even the tiniest of things contain all that makes up this universe. As do we all.

Here’s song that I shared about five years back. It’s Push the Sky Away from a 2019 performance at the Sydney Opera House by Nick Cave, pianist Warren Ellis and the Sydney Philharmonic Orchestra. The song was originally from Nick Cave with the Bad Seeds.

Okay, that’s the end. No, not of the world– just this blog post.

But glimpsing out the window, it looks like a fine day to be waiting for the end of the world.



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I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

–G. K. Chesterton, A Short History of England (1917)



Many, many, many thanks to everyone who came out yesterday morning for the painting demonstration I gave at the West End Gallery. I know how precious time is so the idea that such a lovely group of people chose to spend a good portion of their Saturday watching me work blows me away. It was wonderful group that was attentive, inquisitive, gracious, and fun, with friends coming from as far away as Toronto, Syracuse and Binghamton for the event. 

I was nervous at the prospect of painting in front of a group, but these folks quickly alleviated my jitters with their easy laughter and questions.  I started the demo with a 12″ by 16″ canvas that had been prepped with multiple layers of gesso then a final layer of deep purple paint. Since I was determined to get as far into the painting as I could during the demo I painted faster than I normally would in the studio. I had decided that I would employ a blockish style in the sky that I sometimes use as it would get maximum surface coverage in the shortest time. The blocks were slapped in in multiple colors that often had a flat appearance to me at first.  That would be rectified in subsequent layers.

I had a vague idea of how I would compose the landscape below the sky but that was thrown out the window as I worked. Adjusting on the fly is often the case with my work. I opted for a simpler landscape with patchwork fields that is seen in much of my work. I asked the group if they would prefer the landscape with hills in the distance and they said yes to that. I blocked those in and then began shaping the landscape with payer of lighter colors.

I hustled along and finally decide to finish up with the prerequisite Red Tree. Of course, I had inadvertently forgot to pack the particular red that has been the staple for my red trees for the past 25 years. But as I said, art is seldom done under perfect conditions and often requires working with what is at hand. I ended up using a crimson that was a little heavier bodied and darker than I would normally use.

Without getting into all the details, the piece was more or less finished after a little before 1 PM. I was as surprised as anyone. I hadn’t anticipated getting anywhere near completion on this painting.

All in all, I am very pleased with the result. The image at the top shows how the demo piece turned out. Though it has a look of completion, it needs a bit of work before I would call it done. There are a number of areas in it that need to be refined and just looking at the painting now I see a number of small changes and adjustments that will be made. That includes reshaping and repainting the crown of the Red Tree which is not quite as expressive as I would like. As I said, I was hurrying a bit at the end in order to get to some form of completion.

All in all, I think the demo went well. I think it gave some insight into how this type of my work comes about and how creative decisions are made along the way in making any piece. It showed how the work seldom if ever proceeds in a straight line from beginning to end and that it is the ability to adjust and adapt that transforms a piece. 

Thank you once more for everyone that showed up yesterday. You made my task much easier and, while I can’t speak for you, you made it fun for me. And as fun is sometimes a rare commodity these days, I really appreciate that part of yesterday.

And a special Thank You to Jesse and Lin at the West End Gallery for coaxing me out of my cave for the day. Maybe we will do it again sometime in the future. Maybe with the other style, the wet work in transparent inks, that I began my career with. We’ll see…

Here’s this week’s Sunday Morning Music. It’s Bonnie Raitt’s cover of Thank You (that fits the theme here, right?) which was written by Isaac Hayes and famously recorded by the great Sam & Dave.

Thank you!



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I am giving a painting demonstration this morning at the West End Gallery in Corning. It begins at 10 AM and ends somewhere between noon and 1 PM. I realize that most folks will not be able to make it to the gallery today so I thought it might not be a bad idea to share a blog post from a number of years back, from early 2013, that gives a glimpse into how I work, though it doesn’t show the entire process from start to finish. For today’s demo, the painting I will be working on will be smaller than this and will be a simpler composition that will hopefully allow me to get further along in the process in the allotted time.

There will be other differences, of course, but you will have to be at the West End Gallery this morning to see that. The doors open at 9:45 so that attendees can claim a seat, which are limited in number, if they wish. Or they can stand and go back and forth between the artists that will be giving demos today. I will be painting on the 2nd floor of the gallery and painter Gina Pfleegor will be in the Main Gallery beginning at 10 AM. We will be joined around 11 AM by Trish Coonrod who will be working on the 2nd floor with me. And at 2 PM watercolorist Judy Soprano comes in take over and finish out the day. It should be informative, interesting, and maybe even a little bit of fun. Hope you can make it!

gc-myers-feb-2013-1

This is a new piece that I started over the weekend.  It’s a fairly large canvas, 24″ by 48″, covered with layers of gesso then blackened before I began to lay out the composition in the red oxide that I favor for the underpainting. I went into this painting with only one idea, that it have a mass of houses on a small hilltop. That is where I began making marks, building a small group of blocky structures in a soft pyramid. A little hilltop village. From there, it went off on its own, moving down the hill until a river emerged from the black. An hour or two later and the river is the end of a chain of lakes with a bridge crossing it. We’ll see where and what it is when it finally settles.

I like this part of the process, this laying out of the composition. It’s all about potential and problem-solving, keeping everything, all the elements that are introduced, in rhythm and in balance. One mark on the canvas changes the possibility for the next. Sometimes that possibility is limited by that mark, that brush of paint. There is only one thing that can be done next. But sometimes it opens up windows of potential that seemed hidden before that brushstroke hit the surface. It’s like that infinitesimal moment before the bat hits the pinata and all that is inside it is only potential. That brushstroke is the bat sometimes and when it strikes the canvas, you never know what will burst from the rich interior of the pinata, which is the surface of the canvas here. You hope the treats fall your way.

One of the things I thought about as I painted was the idea of keeping everything in balance. Balancing color and rhythm and compositional weight, among many other things, so that in the end something coherent and cohesive emerges. It’s how I view the process of my painting. Over the years, keeping this balance becomes easier, like any action that is practiced with such great regularity. So much so that we totally avoid problems and when we begin to encounter one, we always tend to go with the tried and true, those ways of doing things that are safest and most predictable in their results.

It’s actually a perfectly fine and safe way to live. But as a painter who came to it as a form of seeking, it’s the beginning of the end. And as I painted, I realized that many of my biggest jumps as an artist came because I had allowed myself at times to be knocked off balance. It’s when you are off balance that the creativity of your problem-solving skills is pushed and innovation occurs.

It brings to mind a quote from Helen Frankenthaler that I used in a blogpost called Change and Breakthrough from a few years back: “There are no rules. That is how art is born, how breakthroughs happen. Go against the rules or ignore the rules. That is what invention is about.”  

 You must be willing to go outside your comfort zone, be willing to crash and burn. Without this willingness to fail, the work becomes stagnant and lifeless, all the excitement taken from the process. And it’s that excitement in the studio that I often speak of that keeps me going, that keeps the work alive and vitalized.

It’s a simple thing but sometimes, after years of doing this, it slips your mind and the simple act of reminding yourself of the importance of willingly going off balance is all you need to rekindle the fire.

This is a lot to ponder at 5:30 in the morning. We’ll see what this brings in the near future.  Stay tuned…

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