Sitting on Santa Monica Beach, a few miles from where I miserably slumped down nine months before, faced with the certainty of failure.
The ocean is the same but I’m a different man.
Approaching along Route 66, past a hideous succession of urban sterility that only recently would have made me cry with despair. A whirlwind of emotion and memories sending a tear running down my cheek.
The tears are the same, but these are cried for something I did.
Riding along Hollywood Boulevard with the sun setting, winding my way through the traffic, speeding by the places that had me paralyzed and agonizing in stasis.
The streets are the same but I can use their sidewalks without looking at the stars.
Entering the studio and realizing that we’ve already laid down the foundations. Adding, decorating, flourishing in a burst of creative energy.
The songs are the same, but they resonate with the wanderings of my soul.
Arriving back in New York for the final departure, the menacing and terrifying reality of the unknown filtered through the prism of a newfound optimism.
The city is the same, but I can see through its facade.
Returning home, with the satisfaction of knowing there was nothing more I could have done. That whatever didn’t happen only makes the occurred more real.
Reality’s the same, but I’m spinning around it.
Setting off into a new adventure full of hope. Not the one repeated like a mantra, that I am willing to become real, but the deeply rooted kind, that stems from knowledge. That knowledge that had almost slipped my mind. That the world is nothing but what I’ll make of it.
The world is the same but I can sing it once again.
Song of the Day: Instant Karma – John Lennon