Radiation Aftermath
The Forty Breaths
It took 34 attempts to find the right geometry for two minutes of radiation.
Lying perfectly still, I began paying attention to my breathing. I counted each breath. Somewhere around forty of them passed during those two minutes of radiation arc.
Knowing the importance of every breath started another question: Where am I spending my time?
And then the question changed.
Maybe time wasn’t the scarce thing. Maybe attention was.
Freedom in the Key of Now grew from that small realization: certainty may always remain out of reach, but attention is something we can examine. We have some agency over where we place it, what we continue carrying, and when a completed loop no longer deserves another breath.
the next breath?” Freedom in the Key of Now
Six Songs · One Artline
Freedom in the Key of Now
These six songs move from finding freedom, to questioning certainty, to accepting surprise, closing completed loops, making room for sweetness, and walking toward whatever comes next.
They aren’t six answers. They are six changes in the question.
Craving Clear Skies II
Freedom · Movement · Looking Within
Craving Clear Skies II revisits an earlier idea of freedom: get on the road, follow better weather, keep moving until something opens.
But the road eventually turns inward. Clear skies aren’t only something to find over the next hill. Freedom also comes from examining what we carry with us.
“Some people wait for spring — I drove to find it.”
“Clear skies aren’t just above… they’re within.”
Read the Lyrics
Feet were cold on that hardwood floor,
Grey days seeping through the door.
Packed my bags, kissed the frost goodbye,
Hittin’ the road with a lighter sky.
Thermos full and compass clear,
Sunshine whispers, “Come on, dear.”
Clouds can’t hold me like they did before,
Hope’s in bloom on this weathered tour.
Southbound wheels hum a healing tune,
Windows down to catch the afternoon.
Faith rides shotgun, doubts in back,
Peace ahead on this golden track.
Found a chapel in a desert breeze,
Not made of walls, but open trees.
Prayed with silence, danced with light,
Left my shadow in the fading night.
🎶 Craving clear skies, not just blue,
Chasing warmth and something true.
Let the sunlight rinse my soul,
On open roads that make me whole. 🎶
Not just weather — it's a state of mind,
Where the past unhooks and love’s not blind.
It’s a freedom song in the key of now,
With skies that kiss my furrowed brow.
Rearview mirror full of rain,
Wipers off, no more pain.
Every mile’s a second chance,
In the light, I learned to dance.
"Some people wait for spring — I drove to find it."
"Clear skies aren’t just above… they’re within."
I Get It—Wait, What?
Certainty · Curiosity · Frankly Spunk
Life has hooks that arrive with a twist. Just when the explanation appears complete, context changes and certainty gets another little poke.
That’s where Frankly Spunk enters: I get it—Wait, What? Maybe knowing isn’t the prize. Maybe noticing is.
“Maybe knowing’s not the prize
Maybe it’s enough to notice
When the answer changes sides”
Read the Lyrics
I kept a list of reasons
On the back of a receipt
Coffee ring above the total
One good question underneath
You said, “That’s quite a system”
I said, “It mostly works”
Then the paper met the rain
And did what paper does first
I get it—wait, what?
There’s a hinge inside the doubt
Turn it slow, don’t force it shut
Let the little truth come out
I get it—wait, what?
Maybe knowing’s not the prize
Maybe it’s enough to notice
When the answer changes sides
The landlord fixed the hallway
With a strip of silver tape
The neighbor called it progress
I called it something close to brave
My old friend sent a postcard
No return address or date
Just a picture of a chair
And the words, “I’m running late”
I get it—wait, what?
There’s a hinge inside the doubt
Turn it slow, don’t force it shut
Let the little truth come out
I get it—wait, what?
Maybe knowing’s not the prize
Maybe it’s enough to notice
When the answer changes sides
I used to think a revelation
Would arrive with paperwork.
A stamp. A signature.
Somebody official saying,
“There. You may proceed.”
But mostly it’s a Tuesday,
A bus pulling away,
Your hand in your pocket,
And the sudden understanding
That you were holding nothing
You needed to keep.
I get it—wait, what?
The room is still, the door is wide
Set the question on the table
Leave the answer by its side
I get it—wait, what?
No parade and no disguise
Just a little less to carry
And a little more outside
Keep walking.
Well, That’s Not What I Expected
Prediction · Surprise · Serendipity
Certainty takes another turn. Just when we think we know what’s going on, life reminds us how much remains outside the prediction.
Surprise doesn’t necessarily mean something has gone wrong. Sometimes it simply means reality has arrived carrying information the prediction didn’t have.
Freedom in the key of now can be as simple as noticing the unexpected arrival, giving it a little room, and seeing what happens next.
Read the Lyrics
**WELL, THAT'S NOT WHAT I EXPECTED**
I checked the map, I checked the sky,
Had three good reasons, maybe five.
Coffee hot and tank near full,
Every little variable under control.
Then the highway sign said ROAD CLOSED HERE,
My perfect shortcut disappeared.
Found a diner just beyond the bend,
Best damn pie I've had since—when?
Funny how a road goes wrong
And somehow takes you right along.
Well, that's not what I expected,
Not the way we drew the lines.
Had tomorrow all directed,
Then tomorrow improvised.
Maybe life ain't breaking promises,
Maybe it never read the notes.
Well, that's not what I expected—
Funny how that goes.
I knew exactly what you'd say,
You'd grumble half the afternoon away.
Blame the weather, blame the sign,
Tell me we were losing time.
Instead you leaned back in your seat,
Tapped your fingers to the beat.
Said, “We've got nowhere else to be.”
Well, you surprised the hell out of me.
Funny how the man you know
Still has somewhere new to go.
Well, that's not what I expected,
Not the way we drew the lines.
Had tomorrow all directed,
Then tomorrow improvised.
Maybe life ain't breaking promises,
Maybe it never read the notes.
Well, that's not what I expected—
Funny how that goes.
We both agreed the storm would pass.
We both agreed we'd make it fast.
We both agreed which road was best.
Confidence was not the test.
The rain came down, the bridge was out.
So much for knowing without doubt.
We'd both been wrong with such conviction,
We had to laugh at our prediction.
Funny thing about tomorrow.
What's that?
It never learned its lines.
We gave it a perfectly good script.
Apparently it doesn't read.
Or maybe it improvises.
Well…
What?
What if surprise isn't something going wrong?
Well… that's not what I expected.
Well, that's not what I expected,
Maybe that's the better part.
Every answer gets corrected
When the living gets to start.
We can guess where this is going,
We can swear we know the road,
Then the world turns one small corner
And hands us something we don't know.
Well, that's not what I expected—
Funny how that goes.
Maybe knowing isn't knowing
What tomorrow has in store.
Maybe knowing leaves a little room
For something we haven't seen before.
Well…
That's not what I expected.
You thought we were done, didn't you?
Well…
That's not what I expected.
The Loop Is Closed
Attention · Completion · Release
This is the hinge of the album.
Some questions remain alive because there is still something there to discover. Others keep returning what we already brought to them.
Knowing the difference changes where attention goes.
Closing a loop isn’t pretending the past didn’t happen. It is recognizing when the lesson has already landed — and deciding that yesterday doesn’t automatically get another piece of today.
“Maybe I’ve learned
What there was to learn
The loop is closed.
Keep walking.”
Read the Lyrics
THE LOOP IS CLOSED
They tell you there's a lesson
in everything.
Well, Maybe.
But nobody tells you
when the lesson's over.
I've turned some stones a hundred times
Like number one-oh-one might shine
Asked the same old question
In a slightly different way
Had conversations in my head
To improved the things I should've said
Cross-examined yesterday
For something new to say
Funny thing about a circle
You can swear you're moving on
Put another mile behind you
Still arrive back to where you started from
So lately I've been watching
Where my attention goes
Does it come back carrying something new?
Or something I already know?
What if knowing when to stop learning
Is something we need to learn?
What if some bridges aren't for crossing
And some pages don't need another turn?
Maybe every question
Doesn't owe me one more answer
Maybe I've learned
What there was to learn
The loop is closed
Keep walking.
Caught an argument in the shower
That's been winning for an hour
A road I didn't take
Still asking where it might have gone
There's a choice already made
An old mistake that's overpaid
Old friends I may never understand
No matter how long I hold on
I called it curiosity
I called it working through
Then one day I caught my attention
Realizing what it always knew
Same road
Same turn
Same story
Same return
Nothing wrong with looking back
Unless there's nothing new to learn
What if knowing when to stop learning
Is something we need to learn?
What if some bridges aren't for crossing
And some pages don't need another turn?
Maybe every question
Doesn't owe me one more answer
Maybe I've learned
What there was left to learn
The loop is closed
Keep walking.
Now hold on.
Walking away
ain't always wisdom.
Sometimes that's just running
with better vocabulary.
An open question
still has some surprise in it.
Leave it open.
Let it breathe.
But a closed loop?
It keeps handing you back
what you already brought.
And maybe attention knows
before the words catch up.
So I don't need to hate the road
To know I've carried what it showed
Don't need to burn the photograph
To put it in its place
I didn't leave because I learned nothing
I left because I learned what was there
And all the time I spent still staring
Was time I couldn't spend elsewhere
Forty breaths in two short minutes
Funny way to count a day
Makes you wonder what deserves a breath
And that you're free
to walk away.
What if knowing when to stop learning
Is something we have to learn?
What if freedom isn't more time
But choosing where your time gets burned?
Maybe every ending
Doesn't need another answer
Maybe the lesson
Is knowing when it's been learned
The loop is closed.
And all that attention
I was spending back there…
I get to spend somewhere else.
Nothing left to prove
Nothing left to fix
Nothing left to rehearse
Just to see if it still hurts
Take the lesson
Let go of the load
There's another question
Down the road
The loop is closed.
Keep walking.
[quietly]
Keep walking.
And all that attention
I was spending back there…
I get to spend somewhere else.
Dessert First
Mary · Sweetness · Permission
And that’s where Mary walks into the album.
Dessert First is a nod to daughter Mary Boleyn and a reminder that paying attention doesn’t mean turning every breath into another assignment.
Pleasure deserves attention too. Sweetness doesn’t always have to wait until everything else has been completed.
“Dessert first—why not?
Who put sweetness at the end?
What if later isn’t better?
What if now is where we spend?”
Read the Lyrics
**DESSERT FIRST**
She looked at the menu,
skipped right past the sensible part,
and said—
“Who says dessert comes last?”
Finish your vegetables, finish your work,
Do all the serious things first.
Save the good wine, save the good shirt,
Save a little joy till after it hurts.
There's a pie in the case with my name on the plate,
But apparently pleasure is supposed to wait.
I've followed the rules, I've rehearsed the lines—
Maybe the cheesecake won't mind.
But I got to wondering,
sitting right there—
Who made the rules
about when we get dessert?
Dessert first—why not?
Who put sweetness at the end?
What if later isn't better?
What if now could use a friend?
Dessert first—one good bite,
Before the world gets back to work.
Maybe joy don't need permission.
Maybe—
Dessert first.
There's china in a cupboard nobody will touch,
Too good for Tuesday, worth too much.
A jacket still waiting for somewhere to wear,
A bottle saved for people already there.
There's a road we've been meaning to take someday,
A call we'll make when things get out of the way.
Funny how we save the living
For when living settles down.
Maybe Tuesday is the occasion.
Maybe nowhere is the place.
Maybe someday's sitting patiently
While now is in our face.
Dessert first—why not?
Who put sweetness at the end?
What if later isn't better?
What if now could use a friend?
Dessert first—one good bite,
Before the world gets back to work.
Maybe joy don't need permission.
Maybe—
Dessert first.
Mary used to say,
“Dessert first.”
Like everybody knew.
I thought she meant the chocolate.
Maybe she did.
Maybe that was enough.
So bring the pie before the entrée,
Wear the good shirt out tonight.
Take the long road home for no good reason,
Sit awhile and watch the light.
Leave one afternoon unaccounted,
Let a question waste some time.
Not everything that's worth the living
Needs a reason or a line.
Dessert first—why not?
Who put sweetness at the end?
What if later isn't better?
What if now is where we spend?
Dessert first—take your time,
Let the serious world wait.
Maybe sweetness isn't something
We were meant to save.
Dessert first—why not?
If there's cheesecake, bring two forks.
We can get back to tomorrow
When tomorrow gets to work.
Dessert first.
Coffee?
Sure.
After dessert.
Then Keep Walking
Agency · Responsibility · And Then
Keep walking isn’t giving up. Sometimes it means completing what you promised to do and knowing which weight remains yours to carry — and which no longer does.
Leave something useful behind. Help another traveler find steadier ground. Then allow the road to continue.
“Leave the woodpile higher
Than the day you came around.
Help another traveler
Find a little steadier ground.”
Read the Lyrics
Spent a lot of years
Carrying things uphill,
Problems that belonged to yesterday,
Questions standing still.
Some roads never ended,
At least that's how it seemed.
I'd haul another stranger's load
Long after they'd been relieved.
Funny thing about the mind…
It keeps old fires alive,
Standing watch beside a doorway
Nobody comes through at night.
Then life taught me something
It never learned from fear.
Look first.
Then look again.
Predictions make good starting points.
Observation earns the right to stay.
Gather what is true.
Leave behind what isn't.
Carry the responsibility
With both hands…
But only while it's yours to bear.
There comes a quiet morning
When the papers all are signed.
The evidence has found its home.
The keys are no longer mine.
That's not giving up.
That's completing
What you promised to do.
Leave the woodpile higher
Than the day you came around.
Leave the gate a little stronger.
Leave more truth than you found.
Tip your hat.
Pass the lantern.
Somebody else has got the watch.
Don't carry the piano
After you've delivered it.
Leave the woodpile higher…
Then keep walking.
Morning finds the workbench
Covered in yesterday's dust.
Some things need another hammer.
Some belong to someone else.
Every mile keeps teaching
The same old gentle art…
Know the weight that's yours to carry.
Know the weight that's not.
Kid…
Your amygdala thinks
Standing guard forever
Is the same thing as love.
It isn't.
The watch changes.
That was then.
This is now.
The job isn't to own tomorrow.
The job
Is to faithfully hand today
To the next pair of willing hands.
Then…
Start walking.
Leave the woodpile higher
Than the day you came around.
Help another traveler
Find a little steadier ground.
Close the gate.
Hand over the keys.
Smile like somebody who knows.
The road beyond the hill
Has been waiting all along.
Don't carry the piano
After you've delivered it.
Kid…
The world's still turning.
There's another sunrise
Looking for your footprints.
Leave the woodpile higher…
Then keep walking.
Questions Are the Answer
And Then…
The questions don’t end. They change.
From travelling to discover where to spend time, to examining how time is spent, to giving ourselves permission for time that doesn’t need to accomplish anything at all.
Certainty can remain somewhere over the horizon.
There is still this breath. This attention. This now.
There’s another question down the road.
Then keep walking.