He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

                                    William Butler Yeats

I discovered this poem when I was 12 or 13 and it spoke to me so clearly that has been my mantra ever since. Inside my addled noodle, all I really have is my imagination and dreams to offer the world, my family and my friends.

As I sail perilously close to 60 and look over my shoulder in my wake, I see that my dreams were always my Pole Star guiding me through life on my terms. I dreamt of flutes and stories and art free from conventional constraints and raised a family with imagination and love.

These pages won't focus on one topic or part of my life. Instead, I'll share what makes up the most important part of my day: my ideas, dreams and crazy thoughts. The stuff that makes me come alive.

So, if you'll tread softly, please come in.