A Musician’s Creative Journey
If you missed it, you can read Week Twenty One of my Musician’s Creative Journey, where I explore symbols, memory, and what endures.
This post is the latest installment of my ongoing series, A Musician’s Creative Journey — a weekly practice of reflection through music, writing, and daily life.
This week circled around symbols and sanctuary. It opens with an Amazon return and a confession about convenience, drifts into a third-grade memory of a peace sign nearly stolen from me, and lands on a mural of Jimi Hendrix — where today’s kids meet his sound with nothing but a blank stare. By midweek, Lucinda Williams reminded me why real still matters, and by the Fourth of July, a mural celebrating 250 years turned into a harder question about what, exactly, we were celebrating. The week closes where it always does — with candlelight, a guitar, and a reminder that sound can turn any room into a sanctuary.
FYI, I’m playing catch-up with my blog posts. Thank you for your patience, your encouragement, and for being part of this creative journey series.
— k
Day One
May 29th, 2026
Amazon… The ultimate love-hate relationship!
A stack of returns headed back today.
Some things work. Some don’t. The search continues.
I have a love-hate relationship with Amazon. I’ve grown to expect things instantly. I don’t want to admit it but it’s true. It shows up on the doorstep. If it doesn’t work, I send it back. The people at UPS know me. The Amazon drivers know me. Instant gratification.
I’ve been working to build the perfect acoustic guitar rig. Battery-powered. Lightweight. Easy to manage. Finally, mission accomplished!
I built my first version of this battery powered pedal board last summer when I played the Cincinnati open. It worked, but I had to carry a backup for each battery in case one went down. It was through trial and error that I found some batteries died quickly, some shut down. It was not a rig I could trust.
This year I was determined to resolve the issues I’d been faced with and decided to use A.I. I started with ChatGPT and then shifted to Claude. That process ultimately led to the portable setup I use today. If you’re curious about the final configuration, I’ve shared a complete breakdown of my battery-powered acoustic guitar rig.
Without AI, the research I was able to do on each piece of equipment that ended up on my pedal board, would have required someone trained in electronics! I needed to know how much current each piece of gear drew– the voltage, amperage, polarity, etc. Without this information, knowing what battery power banks and cabling to purchase, would have been virtually impossible!
At the end of the day—it’s just a guitar rig, right? No, it’s an extension of my expression as a guitarist. It’s my performance rig.
Like a mad scientist in my basement, I was a musician in my studio, refusing to give up until it was right.
Back to my love-hate relationship with Amazon– It’s easy to justify, yet hard to deny, what convenience is doing to our world, as individuals, and collectively. I wish I could say that I had plans to change but I can’t. All I can say is I know I should.
Day Two
May 31st, 2026
The most radical act is a simple one — teach peace.
Teaching peace is how we find our way to the deepest kind of freedom.
This is crazy.
I was in third grade. And out of nowhere, our Sunday school teacher walked up to the chalkboard, and drew a circle, with a straight line down the middle, and two lines on either side, each line pointing down at an angle. He went on to explain that this peace sign was a symbol that represented an upside-down, broken cross. I gasped!!!
This was before cancel culture was an issue.
Our church was progressive. He was not. His teaching went unnoticed, but I never forgot. And, like so many things, I was left to sort this out on my own.
Context— I was a child of the 60s. Peace signs were a big deal! I wasn’t about to let a symbol of peace get hijacked by my Sunday school teacher, so I decided, wherever, and whenever possible, I would put two fingers in the air, smile, and say peace, please!
And with every CD I signed beside my name with that symbol, and with each signature, I see his face, replay his words, and smile. And I’m determined to keep flying my peace signs until his memory fades from my mind.
For me, the peace sign is a value statement. It offers hope. Even on a bad day, if I hold up two fingers, my eyes light up, I can’t help but smile, and for a moment, it feels like everything is going to be OK.
Day Three
June 1st, 2026
A mural can hold a man longer than a lifetime ever did.
I find myself wondering what Jimi would say if he could visit for just one day.
For my generation, Jimi Hendrix was and is iconic. I’ve reached the point where I’m no longer taken aback when a young person, especially a guitar student, says they don’t know who Hendrix is, so I open YouTube, pull up a video, and with excitement. I hit play, and I see a blank stare.
Chilling!
Five years ago, that wasn’t the case. 10 years ago, their eyes popped wide open, they were truly amazed!
Today, kids have seen it all twice. The wow effect has been numbed.
I still remember hearing the first note of Jimi’s guitar blasting “And the Gods Made Love” through a friend’s speakers— like a crack of lightning from the skies to the thunder that shakes the ground my life was changed!
I had no idea a guitar could make those sounds. I ran all the way home, grabbed my guitar, turned my amp up to 11, and began my journey, just like a scientist, I entered the world of sound creation.
From my first 3-watt amplifier and Les Paul copy, straight from the Sears & Roebuck catalog to the solid-state amplifier I bought with my babysitting money, the summer before 11th grade, I experienced my first sound bath, and so did my neighbors.
I was 15.
I remember that 3-watt amplifier bouncing its way across my bedroom floor, and that first solid-state amplifier was big enough to rattle the walls of my bedroom, yet small enough to fit in the front window, so I could impose my rock concert on the neighborhood. That didn’t always go so well!
Over the next few years, my amps got bigger, louder, and my parents’ television set, was at risk for a blown speaker! When people ask for my address, I would always say, don’t worry, just roll down your window, you’ll find me!
Before Hendrix, I was learning how to play the guitar. After Hendrix, I was learning how to create sound. I practiced 12 to 16 hours each day. I’m not lying. I was learning how to bend strings in pitch, generate sustain, and cause feedback— little did I know, my real math and science class was in my bedroom and eventually moved to the basement, and beyond.
My first experience with distortion, was a blown speaker. I replaced the speaker and bought a distortion pedal, wah-wah pedal, an analog delay, and even a voice box so I could pretend like I was Peter Frampton. I even expanded my vocabulary— “wow,” and “far out!” I updated my wardrobe— ripped jeans, moccasins, faded T-shirts, and bandannas. The only thing that mattered was being cool. Back in the day, that was the badge of honor.
Fast forward—today, kids have seen it all, 1000 times. From the video game, “Guitar Hero,” to “Grand Theft Auto”— we lost the magic. In one generation, we’ve gone from the algorithms of digital delay units to the algorithms of social media, and YouTube. From Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd, to podcasters, influencers—all claiming to be experts. Experts on what?
It’s mind-numbing— literally!
But recently I found hope. I have a Guitar Student. 16 years old. Honor student. Plays piccolo in the band, and guitar in jazz band. She’s facing the reality of college acceptance, student loans, and the future of job security, all barreling down the track. Kids don’t get to be kids anymore.
A few weeks ago, out of the blue, she shared that she, and her friends were talking— they were mad because they missed out on what life was like before iPads, and before A.I. flooded the landscape.
She said, “when I have kids, I’ll never buy them an iPad.”
I paused. Smiled a sigh of relief. And prayed.
Day Four
June 3rd, 2026
Lucinda Williams —
World Gone Wrong
I love Lucinda Williams.
I love the title of this record.
I love every song on it.
Lucinda Williams is real. She tells it how it is, and how it isn’t. She’s blunt, rugged, vulnerable, and cool.
No, she can’t play like Jimi Hendrix.
She doesn’t need to.
Day Five
June 4th, 2026
A celebration for America —
250 years young!
When I saw this mural celebrating the 250th anniversary of our great country. I thought about how young this country is, yet 250 years is long enough to take some things for granted.
Take a moment and think about what you love about this country– nothing is perfect.
Update!!!!!!!
I’m still playing catch-up on the blogs I’ve committed to writing for the series. I wrote the above section before the Fourth of July.
I’m still not sure what we celebrated.
I was left feeling numb, and with only a blank stare.
Chilling!
In 1976, our neighborhood had a parade. My mom and dad figured out how to get a flatbed trailer, and a tractor to pull it with. I remember there was a few bales of hay, a flagpole with an American flag. There was some kind of trimmings along the edges. No, it was not the best float, and it didn’t win a prize, but we felt patriotic.
That’s all that mattered.
I remember thinking— how did we get here? Then, that still, small, voice, from deep inside said— how can a country that doesn’t remember Jimi Hendrix, replays old debates on the evils of slavery, watches background checks loosen on several fronts at once, and steadfastly blurs the lines between freedom and cancel culture, possibly know what we were celebrating.
Day Six
June 8th, 2026
When the power goes out, let the music light your way.
The other night the lights went out, and I quickly grabbed my remote control and flipped on the candles.
Newsflash! I wouldn’t call myself a “prepper” after maxing out a few credit cards, I quickly realized there’s not enough batteries, cans of beans, or water purifiers to endure the worst. I’ve lived a long life. I’m ready to go.
With that said, I have secured for myself enough battery power to play guitar until the end of my time here on planet Earth.
Back to my story— there was nothing to do but play music or go to bed. It was 1:30 AM— too early for that.
As I sat there in the dark, with my 24 battery-powered, dancing-flame candles, and was reminded of when I was a kid all the TV stations went off by 1 AM, and there was only one TV in the house. One phone line. And if you were a teenager, you were lucky to have an additional line called “the children’s phone.”
I had one of those.
I still talk too much.
I remember getting a busy signal.
I can even remember being bored.
Day Seven
June 9th, 2026
Ambient Music in black-and-white.
Sound and lights can be used to transform any space into a sanctuary.
It’s not magic—it’s music.
Wrap Up
Week 22 is a wrap. I remain fully committed to this musician’s creative journey. One day at a time, one image at a time, one honest reflection at a time.
A peace sign that outlasted a chalkboard. A mural that keeps Hendrix alive for kids who’ve never heard him play. Lucinda Williams, unapologetically real. A hard question about a 250th birthday and candlelight, when the power and maybe the country flickered.
Some weeks hand you comfort. This one handed me static, old and new, and asked me to sit with it anyway. Between a childhood memory that still stings, a mural that outlives a man, and a 16-year-old student who still wants to protect her someday-kids from a screen, Week 22 reminded me that creativity doesn’t need certainty. It just needs attention.
As always, thank you for being part of this journey.
Bye for now — see you in Week 23.
— k
An Invitation to Write
Set a timer for ten minutes. Write without stopping. Stay ahead of your editor — just let whatever flows onto the page unfold.
Writing Prompt: Take a few minutes and write about something that speaks to you this week. Something that might go unnoticed or forgotten, had you not picked up a pen, found a piece of paper, and taken ten minutes to write. Just like my first experience with Jimi Hendrix, what captures your imagination and connects you with moments that stand out from your childhood— those moments that remind you who you are, what you’ve seen, and more than anything, what makes you feel.
Resources:
I’d like to share these handpan meditations by Konstantin Rossler, one of my favorite handpan artists’ YouTube channels: Click Here Check out this amazing sound bath and see what you think — music like this always helps calm my mind and keep me grounded.
Here is a featured track — And I Sing — from my instrumental CD titled Speechless:
And I Sing
A tribute to Jimi Hendrix’s “And the Gods Made Love” — the opening track for his album “Electric Ladyland”
Seek out something old this week — something you miss about your childhood.
— k
P.S. My Substack is growing. It’s a space to go deeper — beyond the weekly posts — into the thoughts and questions that don’t fit neatly into a caption. I’d love for you to join me there.
