I wake up at 6:35am. I do what I do every morning… head for the kitchen and make myself a pot of coffee. Everyone else in the house is still asleep. I love it when others are sleeping and I am not. I turn my laptop on and do what I always do in the morning…begin to write.

I am not fully alive unless I am writing. Writing is how I carve out a space for myself on the inside. At first It's like walking through a maze of thoughts, most of which are dead ends from which I will have to back track before finding my way out of the maze to a clear stretch of the now.

In the "now", everything is possible. It's the field of unlimited potential. So why do so many of us human beings prefer to roll around in the past or skip right over it into the future, which after all is nothing more than a mind projected thing that happens in the now?

I guess the one thing the past has going for it is that it has content; lots and lots of content. And the older one gets the more content one has, and it usually ends up in the basement or in the storage locker. At some point in the mind projected future we will clean it all up and get organized.

Will we?

Personally I've been trying to move the process along. Each time I write or go into the basement I tend to encounter the past. Oh look, I got this "The King & I" soundtrack album for my 9^th birthday. I got his book here from my father when I turned 34. I wrote these 20,000 pages between the ages of 14 and 46. Oh, here's my old mixing console that cost $12,000 in 1979. I need to sell it…but it's not worth anything in 2007. I'll take it apart and store it…who knows, it might be worth something again in the future.

I'll think about that tomorrow.

So it's a constant dance between the stuff from the past and the energy it will take to clean it all up tomorrow, and not only that, but the battle to stay in the "Now" while all this crazy stuff keeps resurfacing between the ears, somewhere just behind the forehead.

And so a new day begins...