“(The paths to the House I seek to make,

  But leave to those to come, the House itself.)

  Belief I sing—and Preparation;

  As Life and Nature are not great with reference to the Present only,

  But greater still from what is yet to come, 

  Out of that formula for Thee I sing.”—Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

  Tomorrow is the last day of 2023. A good year for me, as I sincerely hope it was for you. 

  I read the above words with my back to the main window of my little one bedroom apartment, sipping coffee and listening to Keith Jarrett playing Bach over the speakers. 

  I started the year owning a house in the Rocky Mountains of Western Canada, fully furnished with a large touring motorcycle in the garage. That’s all gone now, except the books of course, a couple guitars, a camera and some kitchen necessities. 

  Some might think it a step backwards moving from a mountain home to an apartment in Montreal, but I don’t. To me it is a step forward, towards some undefinable goal, ineffable. 

  Walt Whitman died in poverty, still singing the dream of an American Promise, but knowing in his heart the dream was fast fading. 

  That ‘American’ promise died long ago too.

  But the Promise, a Universal Promise, remains for each one of us…

  If we have the courage to Live it. 

  I wish all a Happy New Year….

  And abundance….

  Now.