The Storyteller: Tales of Life and Music
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Read between March 22 - March 23, 2025
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Sometimes I forget that I’ve aged. My head and my heart seem to play this cruel trick on me, deceiving me with the false illusion of youth by greeting the world every day through the idealistic, mischievous eyes of a rebellious child finding happiness and appreciation in the most basic, simple things.
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To me, that is beauty. Not the gleam of prefabricated perfection, but the road-worn beauty of individuality, time, and wisdom.
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“But, beyond any biological information, there is love. Something that defies all science and reason. And that I am most fortunate to have been given. It’s maybe the most defining factor in anyone’s life. Surely an artist’s greatest muse. And there is no love like a mother’s love. It is life’s greatest song. We are all indebted to the women who have given us life. For without them, there would be no music.”
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This band, born from the heartbreak and tragedy of our broken past, was a celebration of love, and life, and the dedication to finding happiness in every next day. And now, more than ever, it represented healing and survival.
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You pick yourself up off the ground. You walk home. The show must go on.
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What you think, you become, What you feel, you attract, What you imagine, you create.
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There is a theory out there that most musicians decide their creative path in life between the ages of eleven and thirteen. This is the golden window of opportunity where independence and identity intersect, a most treacherous phase in any child’s life where you become your own person, no longer just your parents’ accessory. A time to discover who YOU are, and if you happen to have any sort of musical inclination and drive, chances are you will decide this is who you will be for the rest of your life. A musician. I believe in this theory, because it is exactly what happened to me.
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EVERY DAY IS STILL A BLANK PAGE, WAITING TO WRITE ITSELF.
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BUT “IDLE HANDS ARE THE DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND,” OR SO I’VE HEARD.
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It’s hard to put into words the belief that I have in music. To me, it is god. A divine mystery in whose power I will forever hold an unconditional trust. And it is moments like these that cement my faith. So, when you hear that parade coming down the street, spreading joy and love with every note, don’t just listen; join in the march. You never know where it may lead you.