“We have to start teaching ourselves not to be afraid.” William Faulkner
Here’s to those who dream,
Foolish as that might seem.
Here’s to the hearts that ache,
Here’s to the mess that we make.
Justin Hurwitz and Benj Pasek
With a pen and camera

Some call it a creative block. With credit to Franz Kafka, I feel a lot like a chrysalis because there’s something in me dying to get out, to be expressed and heard. How many times have we sat [or stood] at our work stations wondering how-in-$%@!!-name can we get something done. Where are the words, the concepts, the visual elements that when properly assembled, delivers the key message? The message can be one of benefit, of productivity, of prophylaxis, or of exclusivity. You get the idea.
Of course, all of this is figurative, but I would say that the photo of the tunnel suggests that I can see a “way out,” but I’m a bit unsure of how to get there. I’m inside the chrysalis, evolving, developing a collection of ideas, hoping to create something altogether different if not unique.
When I first saw this wonderfully creative piano, melancholy hit me. I love the energy and imagination in its installation. However, seeing the keys made me think of days past when I just about played every day. I went through some photo files and this image crossed my screen. It was taken at the Paradise City Art Festival in Massachusetts. Then the proverbial light bulb went off.
Our upright piano, one we’ve owned for decades was a lovely gift from my mother-in-law. But like many things mechanical, especially those made of wood, the instrument became harder to keep in tune, notwithstanding the sticky keys in the scale that begins middle C. Our grandsons now “play” with this piano. Literally. Trucks, a plastic hammer, puzzle pieces, blocks and small enthusiastic hands have travelled the keys. Those small hands make the most discordant of chords, but at least there’s a type of bang-bang-bangbangbang kind of rhythm in the effort.
The epiphany came to light a few short weeks ago [pun intended]. I had asked the president of the local music community school if I could use one of their piano rooms to practice, this during my lunch hour. Eileen is an empathetic, enthusiastic and erudite person; she was kind enough to grant permission. I’ve started playing again and recalled reading an article about the brains of piano players. The one thing I’m focusing on here is the fact that playing an instrument can really help one’s thinking. Perhaps it’s why I’ve longed to play again, yet I really like playing for the sheer love of it, for playing and feeling from heart and soul. I have no evidence that shows improvements to my memory, problem solving or time management, which is fine with me. I’m more right-brained anyway.
For me, playing a musical instrument engages me in therapeutic and cathartic ways.
I was right up against the front glass of this luncheonette and I don’t recall seeing anyone close to me at all….odd. Still, the reflection is interesting.
Okay, now I’m freaking out…this is the frame I took just before my “ghost” photo….the position isn’t exactly the same as I took one step to my right. Go figure!



What’s the sensory attribute second only to vision, that can impact your perception about as quickly? Smell.
I think of all the pleasant smells anyone can encounter, there’s no denying that of a bake shop. The Polka Dot at Greenpoint in Brooklyn is a case in point. While I do not understand Polish, I can comprehend reactions from patrons when they see or hear about something this little bakery offers.
I love books. I also like e-books, but the operative word here is “love.” Celebrated poet Emily Dickinson said it best: