“It’s a thing to see when a boy comes home.”
― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

It’s always strange returning after so long.

Here this blog is in its 9th year, and yet I still keep returning.

As my original intention still remains true, this blog has been used for the sole purpose of sharing my deeper thoughts, those swirls of madness that line the basement with their perennial cobwebs. These are the thoughts I can’t get rid of, the noise that keeps the void from ever going silent.

And to this form I will remain true.

I’ve seen many of you come and go over the last decade. Some writers I’ve followed were only here for a short time, while some who follow me here have been faithful companions along my entire journey, and some have even become great friends.

I thank and appreciate all voices and hearts I’ve found here, much more than I could ever express with words.

This is a safe place for me, and it began in such an intimate way, late at night, staring at a blank screen, not knowing a thing about what I was doing.

Like many before me, I began this journey in a place of solitude, far away from the noise of the life I once knew in Denver, New Orleans, or any place I’ve lived.

Sitting by lamplight in a century old home in Upstate New York, looking out an embrasure into the darkness of the street, mesmerized by the falling snow, I typed my first words here, words about a river—the St. Regis river which flowed behind my house.

All I knew then was that this was a good thing, that I had found something worth my time, and a true intimate relationship began here nearly a decade ago.

I found a community of people just like me. I found those voices who go so often unheard in this oblivion of digital space. I found all of…You. Yet so many of us without ever interacting with anyone else still faithfully come, day in and day out, season after season, to let our voices be heard.

And, this is what writing is all about.

My journey has taken me many places, and my recent lack of writing here is not due to my lack of thoughts to share, not by far.

Here I feel welcomed. I feel no pressure to share a thought or carve out a style, tone or voice. I simply write what’s on my mind at the time. Just like now.

But my journey has deepened, and it has led me to the realization that I must always finish what I start. In this case, finally attaining the degree I set out to achieve over 20 years ago.

Amid the pandemic, during the summer, I realized one simple truth. Life is about living. Nothing can stop life’s motion, no matter what direction it chooses.

It was during this thought that I knew for certain I had to return to school and finish my degree in Philosophy and go on to grad school so I can finally teach the things I love to those who hunger to learn.

So here I am, just having completed my first year back behind the desk, and it feels like I belong nowhere else.

Though I’m still a few years away from completing my ultimate goal, I’m now more than halfway through. And I thank all those who have been supportive of my endeavors.

Just like this journey began with actions that I had no idea would lead me into this process of mindful writing, so too did my decision to return to higher education.

Here, this journey began with reading books while sipping brandy as the woodstove struggled to heat the house during a bitterly cold New York winter. That effort to keep warm turned into writing down my dreams upon waking.

And in writing down those dreams, I stumbled clumsily upon the voice that I began sharing here nearly a decade ago.

That voice then led me to write my first book, a collection of blog posts I wrote on this very platform. And that book led me to attempt writing more than a dozen manuscripts that still remain unfinished. And those unfinished works led me to write four full manuscripts, none of which I managed to publish. But in my defense, they all still need work.

A year from now, this blog will be 10 years old. And it amazes me how life has changed along the way, and how much has remained the same.

Though my lifelong dream has been simply to write, to have those who read my words smile as they turn the page, think a little deeper, raise an eyebrow and maybe even laugh a bit, I have not nor will I ever give up on this dream.

It’s often said that you’re not a writer unless you have countless finished and unfinished manuscripts hiding in every corner of your house that no one but you has read. Well, if that’s true, then I’ve been a bonified writer for more than half of my life.

So, I’m back… for now.

I suppose you can consider this a welcome back letter to myself. After all, it’s been almost a full year since I’ve logged onto this platform. But, I hope to visit here much more before the next semester begins.

We all have passions. We all have something that drives us.

Some of us know not where it arises from. But be sure, we know it’s there.

It’s a primeval “something” that never leaves our spheres.

Today I say thank you to all who have followed me along this journey, even during my periods of absence, and to all those who have reached out, sent emails, said thank you and who have in turn touched my life, and made it better.

It’s good to be back… again.

See you all soon.