Ignore Your Self at your own peril

I sit here, Maker's Mark on the rocks on the desk, and Johnny Cash's "Hurt" playing, and I consider many things, not the least of which is my oldest son's finding his voice in his blog, my middle son's finding himself in his work and adventures, and my youngest finding himself (and his Self) at the doorway to manhood. I consider this collision of realities and inhibition busters and remember why it was that God gives me breath. It is not to be a paper pusher.

I've been listening to Johnny Cash, Tom Rush, Arlo Guthrie and Harry Chapin over the past hour as I scanned my book draft about being a father and a son. The strange brew, or stew, of the influences inspires me, or reminds me.

It reminds me; my sons remind me; the artists remind me; my frustrations remind me: Ignore Your Self at your own peril.

May I pour you a drink and we'll talk?

I shared stories with a group of people at a meeting today. The meeting was about work, and the stories about the boys, about lyrics and about parenting. Only then was I alive today.

Ignore Your Self at your own peril.