I find myself nearly overwhelmed by questions these days.  Questions, visions and dreams.  Either I’m mad, or I’m in the midst of a profound personal crisis.  Or both.  I can’t say, because I really don’t understand what’s happening to me right now.  I know that I am unsettled, anxious and sad.

I want to attribute it to being 47.  I’m really only 46, but my head is convinced that I’m 47.  46!  How did I get that old?  How did I get here?  What have I missed?

Does my choice of music reflect my state of mind, or does my state of mind reflect my choice of music?  Either way, the Talking Heads inhabit my aural environment completely.  And like a charismatic high priest, David Byrne prophesies the challenges and questions that haunt my waking moments and stir my sleeping hours.  These are questions I don’t want to consider; they are too hard.  Too painful.

My restlessness could be a natural extension of my thoughts on God and religion.  More and more, I grow convinced that there is no God, that all of creation is the result of a progression of natural processes that we do not completely understand.  There is no greater power in the universe, there is no afterlife, no reincarnation.  What we experience in the narrow margin between birth and death is all we get.   Everything else is imaginary.

You may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
You may ask yourself
Where does that highway lead to?
You may ask yourself
Am I right?… Am I wrong?
You may say to yourself
My God!… what have I done?