A Musician’s Creative Journey
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.
In Week 9, I explored wisdom, peace, and hope, learning that unexpected “signposts” often appear to confirm we are on the right path. This week, however, has been profoundly difficult. I enrolled my mother in hospice. I constantly remind myself that as hard as this is for me, it is much more difficult for her. She was always there for me; now, I am here for her.
I am writing my way through this season. While I share that I am staying creative and moving forward, there are some things that remain impossible to put into words—and that’s okay.
Currently, I am testing gear for new soundscape elements. I often picture myself on a pristine mountain, overlooking untouched parts of the world, praying they remain until I arrive. Music is my conduit; it can be a lightning bolt of inspiration or a steady candle in the dark.
These practices give me something to hold onto during hard times and a reason to work even harder when things feel calm. Thank you for being part of this creative journey.
—k
If you missed it, you can read Week Nine 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
March 5th, 2026
Wisdom stands,
watching
as we walk by.
I got a membership at the Cincinnati Nature Center this year— something I’ve never done before. My idea of communing with nature has usually been through a window, with a good cup of coffee in hand.
But some of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life have happened outdoors: in the mountains of Colorado, driving across the deserts of Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico, traveling along Highway 1 on the California coast, standing on Mt. Tamalpais just north of San Francisco, and along the misty coastline of Oregon.
Sometimes I feel like Johnny Cash— I’ve been everywhere, man.
After decades of nonstop touring, my days and nights were filled with long drives—six, ten, sometimes sixteen hours or more. Deadlines to meet, soundcheck, showtime, then wake up and do it all again. From MapQuest to GPS, from a Garmin to an iPhone— technology has changed, but the long hours on the road remain the same. I’ve spent a lifetime just passing through some of the most beautiful places in the country.
Now, I have time to stop, take in the beauty, and simply be.
This owl stands in front of the visitor’s center. It reminded me of a small copper tree with an owl that my mother bought years ago in Brown County, Indiana, when I was a kid. I still have it— it sits on my grandmother’s cedar chest in my living room.
Both stood out to me.
Like the game Go Fish I played as a kid, the moment triggered a memory— an image connected to something meaningful.
The nature center is close to where I live, and I’m excited to venture beyond my cup of coffee and see what I might discover.
Day Two
March 6th, 2026
A Buddha sits in my front yard —
a quiet reminder
that peace begins
when we loosen our grip.
Just a few weeks ago, this tiny Buddha was covered in snow. I watched as its head slowly emerged through the surface of winter—unchanged.
I placed it at the entrance of my front garden when it arrived. My dear friend Tami had received it as a gift from the husband of a friend of hers who had passed away. He wanted her to have it.
Now it sits quietly, serving as a reminder.
There is so little we can truly control, yet we often fail to control what little we can. Time moves on, and peace begins to enter when we learn to let go.
When we loosen our grip.
Day Three
March 7th, 2026
Daffodils pushing through
cold ground.A quiet sign of the times:
renewal, hope,
new beginnings.
I caught these flowers blowing in the breeze, sun headed down, a warm day for early March. I thought of the Robert Mapplethorpe book with photos of flowers— stunning. I’m far from a Robert Mapplethorpe, but I’m just as close to these flowers.
Sometimes we learn to see through the eyes of others.
I thought they were beautiful. Black and white, washing away everything but their essence.
More than enough.
Day Four
March 8th, 2026
The moment you start looking,
things begin to find you.
I had never noticed this birdhouse before. It’s awfully small.
I know very little about birds, but I do know that I love sitting and listening to them talk to each other through the trees and across the landscape. Some days there’s quite a conversation going on.
I remember one day, sitting on my porch swing beneath a huge tree outside my living room window. I saw a large hawk land. A pair of robins were nesting nearby— not a good situation.
Then, out of nowhere, several blue jays came swooping in. I had never heard such a racket. The hawk flew to the next tree, and the blue jays followed— loud cries, screeching calls, wings flapping, branches shaking.
Before long, the hawk was gone.
The blue jays moved on.
The robins were still nesting.
And I kept swinging.
Fascinated.
Day Five
March 9th, 2026
I’ve walked past these rocks many times.
Today I noticed someone stacked them.Someone was here,
paying attention.
I wonder who stacked these rocks.
I wonder how long they’ve been this way.
I never noticed them before.
I’m beginning to think I haven’t noticed much at all.
Funny— you buy a camera and suddenly you begin to see.
I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve been out for a walk, staring at my phone, only to look up and see a car just an inch away. Sad, but true. God only knows what this camera might save me from, what I will discover, and how many stacks of rocks go unnoticed each day.
Day Six
March 10th, 2026
Read, think, believe—
And above all—
Be a butterfly!
I had a profound moment this past Sunday while playing for an event at Grailville in Loveland, OH, in celebration of Women’s Day. I spotted a specific book under a woman’s chair in the front row and completely stopped playing. Without introduction, I asked, “Where did you get that book?!”
She explained she was a presenter and it had been a gift. I told her simply, “That book helped save my life.”
When I was 18, I was struggling. I had a guitar, a loud amp, and a job at the Kroger checkout counter in Lexington, KY. A young woman from our church came through my line and gave me that book. Inside, she wrote:
“Read, think, believe— and above all— be a Butterfly.
Love & Merry Christmas ’80
Debra Jo Spotts.”
I’ve kept that book throughout my entire Creative Journey.
The 50th anniversary of Hope for the Flowers corresponded with this celebration, and I was given my own copy for performing. There I sat, playing my handpan and opening the event with my song, “Let Me Be the Light.” It’s moments like these—where the past and present collide so perfectly—that I know there is something far greater than I can begin to understand.
Resources & Inspiration
The Book: Hope for the Flowers by Trina Paulus, the founder of Grailville.
Watch: Interview with Trina Paulus on the meaning of her work and writing process.
Day Seven
March 11th, 2026
“The wisdom to know the difference.”
A gift from my mother. The Serenity Prayer.
“The wisdom to know the difference.” This line from the Serenity Prayer was a gift from my mother.
Though I’ve heard friends in recovery recite these words for years, they carry a deep personal weight for me. Having been sober for over sixteen years— after quitting many times before it finally stuck— I find myself returning to this prayer often.
I stare at the polished stones my parents gave me, tracing the cutout cross, and wait for the meaning to sink into my soul. Serenity is defined as being calm, peaceful, and untroubled. Yet, I often find calm difficult to achieve. Peace is truly an “inside job,” especially when living in an outside world that is far from untroubled.
These stones remain a steady standard, reminding me that when peace feels out of reach, that is exactly what prayer is for.
Wrap up
This concludes Week 10. I remain committed to this creative journey, taking it one day at a time. Each image I share serves as a thumbnail—a steady reminder to pause, reflect, and stay the course.
Bye for now… Week Eleven (Coming Soon) — k
P.S. I recently released my first Substack article. Substack is a space where I can dive deeper and build a community through meaningful connection.
An Invitation to Write
Set a timer for ten minutes. Write without stopping to stay ahead of your inner editor. Don’t overthink—just write and see what happens.
Writing Prompts:
- Write about an unexpected event that added profound meaning to your life.
- Write about something in your life that you are deeply thankful for today.
Resources
It’s been a busy week. I am currently listening to The Magdalene Revolution by Andrew Harvey and studying the life of Pythagoras who established the mathematical foundations behind music and so much more!
