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Ch-Ch-Chickenfoot CD Review

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June 7, 2009

Chickenfoot CD

Recently released June 5, 2009! Click on CD cover above to purchase, or go to www.chickenfoot.us/ to download the MP3 version for only $3.99!

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I can see where many have prejudged this album. Based on the short teasers on Chickenfoot’s website, I was initially guilty of the same. Portions of “Soap on a Rope,” “Down the Drain” and “Oh Yeah” were available before the album was released and I have to admit, when I first heard them, I was disappointed. I thought: “I wanna be your hoochie koochie man?” what kind of lyrics are those? Immediately there came visions of Charro… scary.

And the teaser of “Down the Drain,” caused me to think: here we go again, he’s singing “I need love in the morning and I need love first thing in the evening.” Come on, give me some substance…

It was the same with “Soap on a Rope.” When I first heard it, I thought: oh, no, not another song about sex and drinking…

Well, I was wrong. After seeing Chickenfoot live in San Francisco, I was truly wounded. In a good way. In a fantastic way. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was not the caliper of what I got that night. I wrote a review of the show, so I won’t repeat it here. Check out my post of 5-20-09 if you’re interested.

As for the album itself, I have to say that this is one of the best rock sounds I have ever heard. Yep, right up there with Zeppelin. The surprising changes in these songs are one thing that makes them exciting and memorable. Just when you think this is gonna be a slow song or it’s gonna go this way or that way, it changes and lights up into something completely different. It’s a pleasure to listen to, an  honor, really. The songs showcase each of the musicians to their fullest. They really sing. Each of them, although not always with their voices.

The intro to “Avenida Revolution” slithers like a forbidden snake up your spine. Chad’s drums grab you RIGHT NOW. Sometimes the drums have a Native American feel. This song is an unexpected explosion with a dirty, nasty, dark, heavy rock beat. Sammy’s scream at the end, buries it deep. Satriani, Smith and Anthony all have small solos which highlight their outstanding talents.

The shining moment for me in “Soap on a Rope,” is when Joe’s guitar quakes with riffs reminiscent of SRV (Stevie Ray Vaughan) and is accompanied by a bend uuuuuup that takes you up with it. Also during one of the guitar moments, there’s a point where I can’t tell if the sound is created exclusively by Satch’s guitar or if Sammy is moaning along with it. If it’s just the guitar, I’ve never heard this technique before and it’s brilliant. “Soap on a Rope” bounces with a happy beat. It makes you feel good.

In “Sexy Little Thing,” Sammy will be criticized for his songs about drinking and sex, but it wouldn’t be Sammy without that. Although I was initially guilty of thinking the same, “Sexy Little Thing” is one of those tunes that makes you have to move your ass; you can’t sit still. The guitar starts out sounding a bit like a mandolin and then kicks into gear. It’s a catchy tune and a lot of fun.

“Oh Yeah” has a dark sort of feeling to the middle of it. It tastes a lot like the chord progression in the Beatles song “Because,” which is one of my all-time favorite songs ever. It builds and explodes, then falls back down, rising again with a guitar solo.

“Runnin’ Out” is a political statement about the struggle to hold on to hope. “Long after the mud has settled, you left us with a dirty man…” and “we’re running out of heroes” is a clear message about disenchantment with the Bush administration.

“Get it Up” has a melodic, rolling bassline that really stands out. It’s so full of energy, you can’t escape its impact. I love the repeated references to the word “round.” Even Joe’s guitar seems to convey the feeling of swirling in some places during the song. Chad gets a chance to wail on drums and Mikey can clearly be heard screaming his distinctive backing vocals in this song, giving it all he’s got.

Without doubt, “Down the Drain” captures Chickenfoot’s unique sound from the first note. I love the lyrics “do me when I’m dirty;” that really seems to express the voice of this band. It’s their statement. This is another song I had misjudged based on the small sample on their website. I thought this song lacked substance. I wanted more than what I had initially heard. Well, this song is loaded with substance. Maybe not in the context of the lyrics, but in the music itself. The music here is so phenomenal, it doesn’t lack for anything. Chad and Mikey’s contributions to this band are forefront in “Down the Drain.” And Sam’s scream at the end just seals this song, wraps it up, seals it nice!

My least favorite song on the album is “My Kinda Girl.” It’s not a bad song; it just doesn’t stand out for me.

I already wrote my impression of “Learning to Fall:” “There is something beyond the words here, beyond the melody. It drifts just below the surface and weaves itself with Joe’s guitar and the beautiful flowing harmonies. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Sam’s voice contain so much depth. It reveals something intimate about him that he feels compelled to share and yet wants to guard because maybe it’s just a little too personal to give away—and would they get it even if he did? But it shines through anyhow; he can’t help it, and it glides and caresses like fine cognac slipping down your throat and warming your insides.”

This is by far my favorite on the album. My only criticism is that I wish they would have given me time to recover from “Learning to Fall” when they played it live, before they went into the next song. I missed the first half of “Turnin’ Left” because I was so taken with “Learning to Fall” that I couldn’t tear myself loose from it!

Joe’s remarkable guitar skills are in their glory in “Turnin’ Left.” This is a heavy-hitting, hard-driving rock song that moves fast right from the beginning. Again Sammy and Mikey’s combined screams give this song power, accompanied by the hammering beat and music. Is that a scream combined with the squeal of the guitar or just a perfect blend of musicianship? Great high-energy piece.

“Future in the Past” begins rather funky, then turns the corner and takes on a middle-Eastern flavor. It spins like a belly-dancer’s flowing silk veil, taking you in different directions, then climbs into a hard rock bend. This is another favorite for me. There are a lot of twists here. I think the lyrics contain more meaning than they originally exhibit.

“Bitten by the Wolf” didn’t grab me at first. But when it did, it became another of my favorites on this CD. I heard things in Sammy’s voice I’d not heard before, except perhaps a taste in Van Halen’s “Apolitical Blues.” Sammy can sing the blues. Only a singer with this much depth of soul can pull this off to this height. Some strategically-placed emphasis on certain words like “muddy,” demonstrate his talent beyond doubt. With the gravelly soul sound of a raw blues singer, it goes through me like a jagged shock of lightening.

Sammy said this song was about vampires; I didn’t get that impression–except for the lyrics “we gonna live forever,” which I couldn’t figure out how that had to do with New Orleans.

There is not a bad song here.

Chickenfoot has single-handedly revived rock ‘n’ roll! This album is destined to become a classic.

P.S. Their performance on The Tonight Show with Conan did not adequately convey the authority of Chickenfoot. While they did a good job, something seemed off. Perhaps Joe’s and Mikey’s mics were turned up too loud and it distorted the sound because this was not the raw power of the band I witnessed in San Francisco or the extraordinary talent I hear on the CD!

Other Worlds

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May 31, 2009

A friend I hadn’t seen in over a year dropped by unexpectedly today. He is a highly intelligent, scientific-minded person. We talked about being morally responsible to our fellow human beings because we are all connected to one another.

He said his wife had a quote taped to their refrigerator that read: “We’re here not to see through one another, but to see one another through.”

“Ah, yes, I believe that too,” I said, familiar with the quote.

During our conversation, he mentioned some astonishing discoveries made by NASA’s Hubble Space Telescope (HST):

“They pointed the telescope into black space, where they couldn’t see any light at all. And what the telescope showed were 100 billion galaxies. One hundred billion galaxies they had no idea existed!”

I checked on NASA’s website to learn more about it:

“…in 1999 the Hubble Space Telescope estimated that there were 125 billion galaxies in the universe, and recently with the new camera HST has observed 3,000 visible galaxies, which is twice as much as they observed before with the old camera. We’re emphasizing “visible” because observations with radio telescopes, infrared cameras, x-ray cameras, etc. would detect other galaxies that are not detected by Hubble. As observations keep on going and astronomers explore more of our universe, the number of galaxies detected will increase.”

Over 125 billion galaxies? I found it odd that earlier in the day I had written the following in my notebook:

“There are times when I seem to see the world through different eyes, as if there is a transparent film coating my field of vision and everything looks different. But it’s more than that. What I’m perceiving with my eyes doesn’t just appear different, it also feels different, as if this transparent film I’m looking through is part of me and yet separate. It feels like it’s hovering above the world, above the physical me that’s here being the observer. This ‘extension’ of me is floating above my immediate consciousness and telling me to quit taking everything so seriously because it’s all just a game anyway. And what we are meant to do with this life is enjoy the game. Suddenly it doesn’t matter what I eat, what I drive, how I look or where I live because it’s all impermanent. It’s icing on the cake.

And then I wonder if in those moments, what I’m really seeing is a higher intelligence or another form of intelligence watching me, observing me and sending this awareness back to me because it feels so different from how I normally feel. This idea causes me to wonder about all the unseen forces that exist in our universe and beyond. I know they’re there. I’ve seen evidence of them but never anything provable.

I wonder how many forms of ‘life’ are out there, how many are part of our known world and what do they have to do with me? I know that some of them have something to do with me because they’ve made themselves known in so many ways. And if they’re making themselves known, they must have a reason to do so.

I also believe that they are part of God, the Divine plan and the hub of our connectedness.

Then without realizing it, my mind slips back into it’s familiar awareness and once again I am being fooled into thinking it’s imperative that my shoes match my purse so I don’t look silly when I go out, or that I must contain my excitement about things—behave myself—and not draw attention to myself. I fall so effortlessly back into that mode, the one that auto-pilots my life. And when I find myself returning to that way of perceiving things, what I see through my eyes feels as if a camera lens has been pulled back from revealing a close-up to showing a wide-angle image that has gone completely out of focus.

I realize it’s important to stay grounded in reality because one has to function in society… but there is so much more out there in our vast universe than we have any clue about.”

And now, when I look at the photos of galaxies captured by the HST, I see that the universe is even more vast than I thought. The galaxy in which we live is but one in over 125 billion galaxies. I can’t begin to fathom that information. If we think we are the only form of life amid that unfathomable number, we are kidding ourselves. And if we are connected to one another and to this earth as I believe we are, it stands to reason that we are also connected to the other forms of life out there and to those beyond the boundaries of our limited mortal minds, forms of Being that blur the distinction between body, mind and spirit.

Was it mere coincidence that I wrote about this earlier today and my friend just happened to show up and offer scientific reinforcement of my thoughts? Or was my mind predisposed to this conversation because of what I’d written earlier? Before my mystical experience, I would have been inclined to believe that and not questioned its relevance. And yet, I do believe we draw to us that which we are thinking about, but that’s another discussion.

Since so many strange things have happened to me from the moment my mystical journey began, I no longer believe in coincidence. I now believe that everything happens for a reason. However, my ego mind continues to lurk on the sidelines like an angry parent whose son has wrongly been penalized in a hockey game. In this case, it’s screaming that this notion of attracting what we need just by putting it out there to the universe is ludicrous.

But my heart knows better.

Photo Credits: www.nasa.gov

Chickenfoot “Owns” San Francisco’s Fillmore

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May 20, 2009

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My body hurts all over; it’s wrung out like a wet rag. My right ear hasn’t quite come around yet either.

Chickenfoot’s performance at the Fillmore in San Francisco, CA on May 17, 2009 was the concert of a lifetime.

I knew I was in trouble when the first song, “Avenida Revolution,” a balls-to-the-wall song about the perils of Mexican immigrants, pounded from the speakers like an iron fist slamming down hard on the stage. Or maybe the biggest erection known to humankind.

I was already overpowered.

Joe Satriani on guitar, Sammy Hagar on vocals, Chad Smith on drums and Michael Anthony on bass came onstage in a burst of sonic boom that felt like the world was splitting open, its internal organs shooting upward to the stratosphere like a volcano OD’ing on testosterone. It bounced off the back walls in some sort of sweet rage/euphoria and rolled like breeding thunder through the audience.

And it never let up. 

This was not Hagar fronting a band, Satriani fronting a band, or even Smith or Anthony fronting.

Chickenfoot has their own sound.They’re not a “supergroup” who will dissolve after one album. God Ihope not. They have too much to offer. Their personalities and talents meld as if they  should have been a band a long time ago.

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I expected to be wowed by Satch. And I was. Years ago, after having watched Eddie Van Halen perform live, I described his guitar as being his arm—an extension of him. And I was duly impressed.

But Satriani’s guitar was not an appendage. For lack of a better term, and I hate to use this because it’s cliché, he was one with it. The guitar was Joe and Joe was the guitar. The sounds he created through its body with unparalleled ease were beyond what I’d hoped to see. He added a new vision to the music—quenched a thirst for the extraordinary.

The one who really surprised me was Chad Smith. I had previously thought that the drummer’s job, along with that of the bassist, was primarily to hold the rhythm together, to keep everyone on beat. I was sorely mistaken. Chad did not politely keep time; he was not merely background noise, he was a voice demanding to be heard from the first explosive thud, an integral element. His contribution to Chickenfoot raised the bar many notches.

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Sammy’s voice never sounded better. It was full of depth, and yet maintained the huskiness that makes a rock singer great. He looked amazing. He sounded amazing. He demonstrated new techniques with his voice that gave Chickenfoot a fresh and innovative sound.

And Mikey hammered his bass, never missing a chance to make his personal statement with his distinctive backing vocals, the ones that helped make Van Halen famous.

Not one of them overpowered the others, and each gave 200 percent. They were dripping with sweat before the first song ended.

From the moment they took the stage, Chickenfoot commanded the sound with the expertise of professionals who had risen above that title to the point where their art flowed naturally; it was not contrived. They had earned the right to enjoy themselves while allowing us a peek into their secret passions.

The music dumped into me with such intensity and felt so damn wonderful, it was almost agonizing. There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure anyway, isn’t there? Especially in rock ‘n’ roll.

When they played “Learning to Fall,” my body felt like it was being wrenched by some out-of-control dictator. And I couldn’t stop the tears. The music was phenomenal; the harmonies impeccable. It sounded like there was an entire symphony surrounding me.

It is both glorious and infuriating to be manipulated by an outside source like that.

Mikey Chickenfoot cropped

Another highlight was Chickenfoot’s rendition of Deep Purple’s “Highway Star.” It transported me back to my teen years when life was filled with the joy of listening to captivating rock music with good friends. “Machinehead” was one of the first albums I’d ever purchased.

Sammy did a fantastic job singing Ian Gillan’s incomparable lead vocals.

Chickenfoot’s entire performance tore me up bad. And yet, I felt like I was the contender who’d won the match. I knew at the time that I was going to be hurting afterward; I just didn’t care. It was so worth it.

I think the critics who have dissed Chickenfoot have based their opinions on the 30-second snippets on the Internet or perhaps from the teasers on Chickenfoot’s website.  These samples do not showcase the brilliance of their material. Not even close.

If hard rock music is in your blood and you are presented the opportunity, you owe it to yourself to see Chickenfoot.

You’ll regret it if you don’t. Sammy Chickenfoot cropped

 

Setlist:

Avenida Revolution
Soap on a Rope
Sexy Little Thing
Oh Yeah
Runnin’ Out
Get It Up
Bitten By The Wolf
Down the Drain
My Kinda Girl
Learning to Fall
Turnin’ Left

Encore:
Future in the Past
Bad Motor Scooter
Highway Star

What a crazy name for a rock band!

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May 14, 2009

Maybe their name is crazy, but their music will knock your socks off.

Chickenfoot is the new band featuring musicians already famous for their memberships in other groups: Sammy Hagar on vocals, guitar virtuoso Joe Satriani on guitar, Michael Anthony (former bass player for Van Halen) on bass and Chad Smith, Red Hot Chili Peppers’ drummer on drums. They’ve taken a lot of heat for their name, which started out as a joke and stuck.

I first heard them play in Las Vegas in 2008. The concert was supposed to be Sammy & the Wabos.

Chickenfoot Las Vegas 08

But toward the end of the show, Sammy announced that he had special guests waiting offstage who were dying to come on and play. That’s when Mikey, Joe and Chad made their entrance.

The four of them played a three-song set that included Led Zeppelin’s “Rock ‘n’ Roll” and Traffic’s “Dear Mister Fantasy.” The audience was ecstatic.

Since then, Chickenfoot has recorded its first album, due for release on June 5, 2009.

The band is doing a “Road Test” tour which includes nine small venues around North America before they head off to Europe. They will be back mid-July to play larger venues in the US. For more information, please visit the Chickenfoot website.

True to all the synchronicities that have fallen into my lap since my mystical experience at Sammy’s show in 2003, my husband and I somehow obtained last-minute tickets to the sold-out show in San Francisco on May 17. It was obviously meant to be, for reasons presently unknown to me. But like all the other coincidences on this wonderful journey, I’m sure the reasons will be forthcoming.

Until then, I am honored to be a part of rock music history-in-the-making and will return home with more stories. Stay tuned!

Chickenfoot – Learning to Fall

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May 14, 2009

I can’t remember the time I have been so moved by a song.

“Learning to Fall” speaks to every cell in my body as if it were part of me. I can almost feel its spirit rising in my soul like the smoke of sweet jasmine incense.

There is something beyond the words here, beyond the melody. It drifts just below the surface and weaves itself with Joe’s guitar and the beautiful flowing harmonies.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Sam’s voice contain so much depth. It reveals something intimate about him that he feels compelled to share and yet wants to guard because maybe it’s just a little too personal to give away—and would they get it even if he did?

But it shines through anyhow; he can’t help it, and it glides and caresses like fine cognac slipping down your throat and warming your insides.

You can’t hang a name on that feeling; you just have to allow it to move through you and enjoy its spell.

And listen to the song again.

Rock Music Makes You Explode into the Stars

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May 6, 2009

It should be illegal to feel this good.

Last weekend I had the privilege of seeing Sammy Hagar and the Wabos in concert in South Lake Tahoe. I was in the front row as Sammy came over and sat down on the stage right in front of me to play the intro to “Bad Motor Scooter.” I had to back up so he could get his red shoes over the edge of the stage.

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When Sammy played his slide guitar, I watched his fingers move over the strings, his thumb encased in a clear glass slide, his hands finding the exact place on the strings and quivering to create the vibration and make the sound come alive.

The sound was bigger than Sammy, bigger than the audience, bigger than all of it put together and it spilled out of the giant speakers and bounced off the crowd in the sold-out South Shore Room at Harrah’s.

As he played, the energy of the moment was so intense, I was afraid to absorb it for fear that it would overload my senses. So to counteract it, I hid behind my camera and told myself if I didn’t get pictures, I would forever regret it. Every now and then I lowered the camera and let the energy flow into me, but I didn’t let it enter me completely; it was too powerful.

And now that it’s “safe” to think about it, I realize that great rock music makes me fall to pieces like that. I love/hate this feeling.

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Rock music elicits a loss of self-control that fuses pain and pleasure. It’s a form of therapy that forces us to let go and allow raw feelings to surface, things that perhaps “decent” people would consider taboo and refuse to acknowledge.

That only makes it more delicious.

But because of this, we are restored.

Experiencing a live rock ‘n’ roll performance full force is also like having spontaneous, unprotected sex. It puts you in that moment where it’s do or die, on the edge where there’s no turning back. It’s so extreme that you are willing to let it take you even though you know better. You’ve found yourself in that moment—sweating, heart pounding and consumed with an ache that can’t be extinguished by any other means. And although your logical mind says you shouldn’t be doing this, your emotions are out of control.

It’s like trying to halt a galloping stallion who doesn’t feel the pain of the bit puncturing the roof of his mouth as you pull back on the reins. The drive in him is unbearable. He knows where he needs to go and all you can do is hold on and enjoy the exhilaration of the ride.

How does one harness a feeling like that? Body and spirit open wide to take it all in now, to take it in hard. And it hurts so fine as you explode into the stars.

It’s rock ‘n’ roll, Baby, you don’t control it; it controls you.

Give me more.

A Gift Of Love: Deepak & Friends Present Music Inspired By The Love Poems Of Rumi

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A Gift Of Love: Deepak & Friends Present Music Inspired By The Love Poems Of RumiApril 23, 2009

It never ceases to amaze me how things have fallen into place since my mystical experience at Sammy Hagar’s concert in 2003. I take one step and the next already seems laid out for me. I can hardly not stay on this path. It’s as if the Universe has dictated its certainty since longer than the concept of time.

Last December, I happened upon this CD–selected writings of Rumi read aloud by celebrities such as Madonna, Deepak Chopra, Blythe Danner, Demi Moore, Goldie Hawn, Debra Winger and others. Rumi was a 13th century poet, Sufi and mystic who composed over 30,000 amazing verses.

As I listened to the online sample of this album, I heard Demi Moore’s beautiful voice reading one of Rumi’s poems, “Do You Love Me?”

The words took my breath away. My intellectual mind told me that the poems were written by a man for his lover, but when I listened, the words perfectly described the mystical experience I’d had years earlier. They sounded like something I wish I would have written to illustrate the connection with God I’d felt so fully.

Where does God end and lover begin?

God does not end. God is the ultimate lover, as my experience was the ultimate high. I saw profoundly in that moment, that love, lover and Beloved are one.

God is a constant that permeates and comprises each grain of sand, each human being and each note of music.

In the following video, Jared Harris reads Rumi’s poem “Looking for Your Face.” It is the best example I can give you of how I felt during my soul’s revelation one hot night in Mexico; my entire being floating in the ecstasy of discovering my truth in the “face” of God:

Video by: DrBillRamos

A Gift to the World

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April 15, 2009

If you haven’t yet listened to Susan Boyle’s incredible performance, I urge you to do so. You are missing out on a source of profound magic.

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And after you have listened, ask yourself how you felt when she sang. What emotions did it bring out in you?

Why do you think you felt that way?

What did you think when you first saw ther? Did you think this plain, middle-aged woman who had never been kissed, who lived with her cat, was a cliché for “loser?”

After her performance and she walked offstage, she was told that she’d been given the biggest “YES!” in the history of the show. Susan’s response was, “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

What were you feeling then?

Picture yourself in that scene. Can you feel the pure elation?

Like the spectators in the video, I felt an initial skepticism by Susan’s outward appearance. However, when she began to sing, my opinion of her changed instantly.Zen skyscrapper

Similarly when I listened to paraplegic triathlete Trish Downing talk about her accomplishments, I no longer noticed her wheelchair.

The same was true for my opinion of myself and my opinion of life when I had my mystical experience during Sammy Hagar’s concert. The moment my heart was opened, my life changed instantly. And like Susan’s beautiful voice and Trish’s beautiful spirit, I saw something beautiful in myself—things I’d never given myself credit for or permission for. I also saw clearly, the beauty in all of life.

Susan Boyle’s voice has enriched me. I don’t think she would have been such a sensation if she had been an attractive young girl in a designer dress. Her drab appearance was part of her charm. As she sang, it brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat. If she hadn’t given herself permission to be herself, to get up onstage and share her remarkable talent, my life would be diminished. I wouldn’t even have realized that the light she’d had to share was missing.

We all have a talent like this. It is the key to self-realization. And it brings with it, the same joy Susan experienced that day. The same joy we felt when she sang.

We are awaiting your song.

The Agony and the Ecstasy: Having it All

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April 5, 2009

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Publishing your most intimate thoughts is like clawing your way into your own guts, pulling them out while they’re still throbbing and oozing and holding them above your head for the world to pass judgment upon. Once they’ve been ripped out, you can’t put them back.

When those words are exposed, they are metaphorically tossed to the mercy of the critic’s sword which has the power to fashion them into gold or slice them to ribbons.

Which will it be this time?

Gold.

Last weekend, I attended my second writer’s conference. These gatherings are a means for those of us who adhere to the calling of writing, to network with fellow authors, booksellers, publishers, agents and like-minded ilk.

During one of the workshops, for the first time, I pitched “Dance of the Electric Hummingbird” to literary agents. I also submitted a few pages to be read aloud before a large audience which included more agents. I was astounded by the reviews my book received from the professionals:

“Fascinating!”

“Agents are going to eat this up!”

“Well-written.”

And while I was deeply honored to have received this feedback, an even greater gift was about to be bestowed upon me…

Wrapping up the two-day seminar, the keynote speaker was a woman named Trish Downing. Prior to 2000, Trish had been a competitive cyclist and an avid swimmer, working toward her goal of one day competing in the Olympics. Then something happened that forever changed her life. While riding her bicycle, she was struck by a car and paralyzed from the chest down.

In spite of this, Trish went on to become the first female physically-challenged athlete to finish the Ironman Triathlon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile run).

Trish Downing

As I watched her maneuver her wheelchair up the ramp to address the crowd last Saturday evening, Trish’s presence didn’t make me think: What a waste. In fact, the more she spoke, the less I noticed her wheelchair. Instead, what I saw was a beautiful young woman whose liquid brown eyes were filled with a depth most of us never realize. It was something solid and real that could only be delivered from the soul of a person who was not only motivated to succeed, but by someone who cared enough to show the rest of us that we mustn’t be hindered by our own “wheelchairs.”

While Trish told her story, I thought about all the events in my life that had led me to the place where I found myself at that moment.

Sitting at a round table adorned with a white linen tablecloth, the remnants of my half-eaten slice of cheesecake wallowing in strawberry sauce on a glass plate in front of me, I suddenly realized how blessed I was. And it wasn’t because I was thinking: There but for the grace of God, go I.

Trish enriched me as a human being and it went beyond the fact that she had overcome great adversity. She showed me that all of my dreams had already come true.

Like Trish’s triumph of crossing the finish-line despite great odds, I too, had crossed my own finish-line. Not by overcoming hardships anywhere near what she had been dealt; this was not a contest over whose accomplishments were superior. My finish-line that day was having survived the culmination of years of hard work and preparation: a weekend filled with the stress of having to pitch my book (fling my guts to the proverbial sword) combined with the exhilaration of making new friends, colleagues and contacts and learning skills to improve myself as a writer.

I thought about the process of writing my book: the frustration of sometimes being unable to make the words sound right, the countless hours of revising the text, eating on the run or sleeping too little. I thought about my self-inflicted guilt for allowing mounds of dust to build up on my living-room furniture, for sacrificing spending time with those I loved in order to “fix this chapter” or forgetting to pay the bills.

And I thought about my family, friends, co-workers and the new acquaintances I’d made that weekend, including Trish, who had directly or indirectly offered their support of what I loved to do most of all—write.

I also thought about Sammy Hagar, all the amazing things that had happened to me as a result of the mystical experience I had at his concert six years ago, the vast opportunities he has so unselfishly granted me and the world he has opened up for me—the “me” he has opened up for me. Because of this mystical experience, every step I have taken since that moment has brought me more joy and fulfillment than I ever dreamed possible. I have experienced things I never could have conceived of—things that have advanced my soul in huge ways. And I have met incredible people.

Without any of them, I wouldn’t be in this place of spirit where I find myself at this moment.

As I listened to Trish speak about never giving up on one’s goals that night, I realized I had already achieved mine.

Everything was perfect in my life. It was perfect in spite of the fact that I hadn’t slept for the past two nights because I had been so nervous, or that my stomach was churning because I had eaten cheesecake and I’m lactose intolerant. It was perfect even though I didn’t have all the “things” I wanted or that my grey hairs were multiplying along with the lines on my face.

It suddenly didn’t matter if my book was published or if I accomplished another thing.

All that matters is what I am RIGHT NOW.

I already have it all.