I was watching my much loved Palladia music channel this morning and one of my favorite musicians was on - Bruce Springsteen.
Now, I have heard and listened to many of his songs but never put much thought behind what they meant to him as an artist because, let's face it, I don't have his number on my speed dial to ask him.
Knowing what a song means to its artist is a rare privilege, but especially when the artist him/herself is the one explaining the significance. The show on Palladia this morning was Bruce playing his song for an intimate audience and explaining the song's significance to him.
At one point he played and defined his song "Jesus was an only Son." He made an astounding point that just opened my eyes and inspired a new wave of thinking, immediately. He simply stated that "Life is a path of consequences and that we all follow one."
As simple as it sounds, it had a profound impact on me. Life is filled with decisions based on choices. And, depending on what we decide there is a consequence - positive or negative. Or, going even deeper here, maybe there is always a positive and negative consequence with each decision. How can one truly know the impact of his/her decision except for how it effects him/herself?
I've been dissatisfied with the title of my blog for a few months now because my entries aren't always cozy (due to my path) and I needed a way to express that to you all. I mean truly, it's life. And life ain't cozy all of the time.
With this new title I'll be more apt to blog because it's just about life with no expectations. I felt obliged to provide you with a cozy atmosphere at all times before but now it's time to get real!
I will continue using my pen name, Butternose, because it is a consequence of my path. It holds sentimental value for me because it is the nickname my maternal grandpop gave me in my youth.
In addition, here's the beginning of a new story that these words inspired in me today:
A Path of Consequence
A path of consequence is a road that we’re all certain to follow. It’s inevitable that everyone has one.
My grandfather, for example, until the day he died vowed that he was born of Irish blood although his family heritage proved otherwise. He would study Gaelic at the dining room table for endless hours with his Irish cap on, a pipe in his mouth and a glass of Irish whiskey at the tips of his fingers. He traveled with my grandmother to the Emerald Isle each year, immersed himself in the Irish culture and made many friends along the way. In his life, he wrote vivid poems, stories and painted life-like visions of his numerous journeys to the island. I often think that my grandfather, in his death, is living his dream across the
