Grindstone

Song story & origins

Introduction

In 2020 I released Being Human: Instrumentals, a 20-song collection of instrumental pieces composed and recorded over the last two decades and then remastered into one set. The album is part of a wider project on self-care and mindfulness that I’m developing with a colleague; it’s paired with a free downloadable journal that offers a short note on each composition and an invitational prompt for reflection or journaling. The timing felt right in a season of social distancing—a way to give people a gentle structure for listening and noticing. On release, the album appeared first on CD Baby and then quickly on iTunes/Apple Music (with Spotify following shortly). From the album, I highlight three pieces here—Starting Out, Grindstone, and Unmarked Trail—along with the spirit and exact wording of the journal invitations that accompany them.

How to use the journal (and why there are “so many questions”)

The journal pages begin with a brief context for the piece and then a cluster of questions. Those questions aren’t a checklist; they’re invitations—an approach drawn from Lectio Divina (“sacred reading”), where you read or listen and then notice which single word or phrase rises up for you. With the music, try this rhythm: listen once, skim the questions, then listen again and let one question or phrase choose you. Journal from that starting point. When you return to the piece another day, a different word may rise and take you down a new path. The point is to cultivate an open, beginner’s mind—to see what connections appear and follow one where it leads. In quiet, isolated weeks, that kind of reflective experience can be steadying and fruitful.

Where it came from. I composed Grindstone while our family was living in New Mexico and working at a summer youth camp. Grindstone Springs was one of our favorite trails in the Sangre de Cristo mountains: sun-warmed path, shifting pine and spruce shade, vistas opening here and there—perfect places to stop, breathe, drink, and take in the view. On the album, Grindstone features Sheryl on piano. I originally wrote the piece on acoustic guitar; later Sheryl’s piano joined it, and those two voices now feel like a conversation—the back-and-forth of two people hiking together, one pointing out a detail, the other answering, the scene changing with the wind and light.

Journal invitation. The page frames Nature with these questions: “Do I have a go-to place to reconnect with nature or elements of the natural environment? Where is that place? What makes it appealing to me? Are there experiences I’ve had there that have shaped me in some foundational way? What are those experiences? How soon am I going to go back to that place?” In a time when many of us have stared at the same four walls too long, this invitation is a nudge back toward rootedness.

Closing note

The album and journal were made to work together: music that leaves room for your story, and questions that invite rather than assign. You can stream the music on the usual platforms and download the journal to keep on a device or print for handwriting; use it here, then try the same approach with any art that meets you on a given day.

Source: New Music Memoir (1).docx