A Musician’s Creative Journey
This post is part of my ongoing Musician’s Creative Journey. A weekly practice of reflection through music, writing, and daily life.
In Week Nine of my Musician’s Creative Journey, I continue reclaiming my time, working in my studio, staying committed to my creative practice, and experiencing the benefits that a daily discipline can bring.
It’s been another productive week. Long hours writing short stories and essays, editing, and taking new photos deepening my ability to see an image through the viewfinder. I’ve been practicing handpan working through drills, metronome exercises, and composition ideas. I continue to enjoy teaching and spending time visiting with and caring for my mother.
As I reflect on this weeks of my creative journey, I feel a bit numb on the outside—but creatively energized on the inside.
As I focus on being more present and reclaiming my time, I find that it’s the little things that keep me grounded. As an artist, self-discovery has been a lifelong journey, but this creative project has encouraged me to shift my focus and notice the world around me.
I spent much of my life on the road, driving past countless places I never had time to stop and see.
Now, I take the time.
Thank you for reading and for being part of this Musician’s Creative Journey.
-k
If you missed it, you can read Week Eight of my Musician’s Creative Journey, where I reflected on momentum, uncertainty, and the small choices that shaped the week before this one.
Day One
February 26th, 2026
How many times I’ve walked past this pond—
talking on the phone, listening to a podcast—
a million miles away.
It takes time to reflect.
Still waters are what allow reflection. When the water isn’t still, the image cannot come into focus. How many times have I walked past this pond without noticing, without stopping? Multitasking. Listening to a podcast. Talking on the phone. Ten million miles away from the present moment.
Not always—but most days.
My commitment to learning anything has required me to make room for it. To set things aside. To feel uncomfortable in not knowing. To let go of what people might think. And little by little, things begin to make sense.
Then suddenly—after hours and hours and hours—everything clicks.
That moment when you get it.
You see something.
Something shifts.
It takes time to reflect.
Day Two
February 27th, 2026
Sometimes you have to take everything apart
and put it back together
to know what to keep
and what to let go.
Taking things apart.
I’ve spent much of my life taking things apart. I remember trying to take the lawnmower apart after hearing my dad say it had “thrown a rod.” I thought maybe I could find it. No luck.
I remember an article in Guitar Player magazine titled “101 Ways to Rewire Your Strat.” I made it as far as number 39 before the inside of my old Fender Stratocaster looked like an aluminum Christmas tree from the early 1960s. Oof. That didn’t go so well.
The truth is, the Strat has always been a playground for DIY mods and wiring experiments, with countless players modifying pickups, switches, and circuits to chase new tones, see this guide on upgrading a Strat.
Then there was a gig in Youngstown, Ohio, in 1982. I thought I had discovered the perfect series-parallel wiring setup for my 4×12 Marshall cabinet. Halfway through the last set, smoke started pouring out of my 1974 Marshall 50-watt head—then sparks, then flames.
We took it to the shop the next day, and the tubes were melted. Fortunately, the tech knew what he was doing—obviously I didn’t. He said we had unplugged it just in time and was able to repair it before my next gig.
From lawnmowers to pedalboards, I’ve taken apart and rebuilt more things than I can count. I’ve assembled hundreds of guitar rigs and pedalboards, rewired my studio dozens of times, and packed and repacked the same suitcase—always searching for perfection.
Only to discover that the things I love most are seldom perfect.
Day Three
February 28th, 2026
1965.
Still warm.
No substitutes.
Some things don’t age.
They deepen.
1965. I was three years old when this amp was made. My guitar teacher, Eddie Beckley, poured his heart and soul into it. When he passed, he left it to me.
I sit here now, committed to writing a new record—an instrumental album. I choose to believe there’s still a record brewing inside me, just as I choose to believe Eddie’s heart and soul are still inside this amp.
Day Four
March 1st, 2026
Some days don’t need analysis.
They need ice cream.
Three scoops of Graeter’s Ice Cream.
It sounded like a good idea and I’ll probably do it again. Sugar never fixed anything, but it was a hard day.
My mother’s dementia is getting worse. This week I called hospice. It’s difficult to see the fear and frustration in her eyes as she tries to make sense of things.
After visiting with her, I left feeling heavy. I started to turn left to go home, but then I remembered that Graeter’s Ice Cream was just around the corner so I turned right.
It didn’t make anything better, but it did make me smile, and I needed to smile.
So I captured the moment on my iPhone, ate all but the last bite you know, like ordering a large buttered popcorn and a Diet Coke.
When I got home, I took an extra-long walk, said a prayer, and called it a very long day.
Day Five
March 2nd, 2026
Two birds fly
in perfect harmony —
synchronicity in motion.
I recently got a membership at the Cincinnati Nature Center. I love sitting and looking out the window, or relaxing in the hanging chair on my screened-in deck, watching nature from a distance. But I’m not much for outdoor activity—and I definitely don’t like bugs.
I’m happiest spending time in my studio, drinking coffee, writing, and playing music. I’m fortunate to have windows that look out onto trees and green space, which brings a bit of nature inside.
But it’s time to venture out, push past my comfort zone, and see what nature has to teach me. I have a strong sense that I need to reconnect with the natural world, break out of isolation, and spend more time outdoors.
So far, so good.
Day Six
March 3rd, 2026
Crystal clear.
Reclaiming my time,
my energy,
my peace of mind.
Such a beautiful crystal bowl. The image it reflects and the sound waves it sends through my body, the room, my sanctuary, and my creative space are mesmerizing.
To sit with such a powerful yet fragile instrument feels profound. It may seem like something small, perhaps even a waste of time, but it’s not—at least not for me.
The crystal bowl is a curious instrument. When struck, it produces one of the purest tones imaginable, resonating long after the initial sound. When I run the leather wand around its rim, it begins to sing much like my symphony gong, my handpan, and my guitars.
All of these vibrating frequencies feel like part of a larger harmony—the glue that holds the universe together.
Lately, I’ve been studying Pythagoras—the mathematics of sound through the lens of a mystic.
Fascinating.
Day Seven
March 4th, 2026
I’ll have a venti Caffè Americano
with double shot of truth.
On a lighter note—
My guitar case. My two favorite bumper stickers.
My bass player, Jimmy V., once handed me a bumper sticker that read: “Drink coffee. Do stupid things faster!” We laughed because it felt like a universal truth.
At the time, we were playing at the Green Parrot, the oldest bar in Key West. Coffee was my fuel, and humor was something we all leaned on to get through the long drives and long nights on stage. It was the glue that held us together.
And then there’s the John Lennon bumper sticker: “Just Give Me Some Truth.” It’s the title of one of my favorite songs from the Imagine album. What beautiful bookends those two songs make—Imagine and Just Give Me Some Truth.
By the way, Imagine isn’t about communism. To me, it’s about something much simpler—something many of us quietly hope for. A moment where government and politics disappear, even if only for the length of a three-minute song. A quiet meditation on what the world might feel like if we could simply hear some truth.
Because, in the end, that’s what people want.
And it’s what everyone deserves.
Wrap up
Wrap-Up
This wraps up Week Nine. I remain committed to my creative journey, one day at a time. Each image serves as a thumbnail, a steady reminder to pause, reflect, and stay the course.
Bye for now…
Week Ten (Coming Soon)
— k
P.S. I just released my first Substack article—click here. Substack is a space where I can go deeper and, hopefully, build community through connection.
An Invitation to Write
Set a timer for ten minutes. Write without stopping. Stay ahead of your inner editor. Don’t overthink—just write. See what happens.
Writing Prompts:
- Write about something you noticed this week that moved you or evoked emotion.
- Write about something in your life that serves as the glue that holds things together, or keeps you grounded.
Resources
It’s been a busy week– I continue listening to Poetry Unbound: 50 Poems to Open Your World, and Rainer Maria Rilke’s Select Poems (translated by Stephen Mitchell) and The Book of Hours (translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy).
I’m also continuing to read Aldous Huxley’s The Perennial Philosophy. It’s a slow read. I listened to it from start to finish back in 2019, but this time I’m taking my time with it—it’s not for the faint of heart.
