oh hey dannyk

As I made my way down the hill this morning for my regular cup of tea, I couldn’t help but be curious. You see, while the New Year began days ago, it is today, the 5th of January that I have chosen as my official start. The scheduled event was a blur of drink and smoke, a celebration of a year gone, not one just beginning. So I indulged it; let it drag on in a sort of hazy last stand, to find myself here on a Monday apropos, the just-barely-cold of Los Angeles stirring my penchant for all things new. Curiosity, I should think is a good thing, both in a new year and on a Monday morning. It is from this place where I wonder if everything I have been doing has already been done. How often does anyone really stand up and ask the hard questions? “Is this where I should be? Am I inspired? Do I do what I do because I need to, want to and love to, or because I don’t know what else to do? And where would I begin even if I should?” These are the questions lining the tiny squares of my new calendar and already I’m five days behind. The promise of any year can hang on wind or clang like church bells depending entirely upon whose listening and how hard. And isn’t that really the point? Are we listening? Is it possible that all the right roads are paved with an earnest set of ears? Maybe so. I have been lucky in this life, that I have found myself inside moments of blistering peace. These times can be riddled with unanswered questions, but rarely are they questions of trajectory. It is inside these moments where purpose and action collide and that which is not easy at least seems meaningful. Today though, like hope I am hanging on a breeze searching for a church bell. This is not a fact I lament, but simply a fact. This is a place I know well, but one that changes with each new stay. On long nights here I go digging through the sands for the bones and tools of a culture I have lost. A culture that is never far in days but is light years gone when searched out with the fingertips. What a strange truth for a man who works with his hands. Still, if peace does not howl on this, the first day of my year, at least it whispers. It may be a distant sound but for it I will rest my tired fingers. Happy new year!

-Andrew McMahon