For a multitude of reasons I choose to contemplate my existence. Why not believe? Because it is scary, because we don’t know? The crossover of believing and knowing isn’t as apparent as we thought. I choose to believe that making love to my life is a totally viable act and something I will die happy in. I want to make love to the world. I choose to make love to the Universe at large because the feeling I get when I am making love to life, takes me to those places of experiential growth. I believe, I belove, I hold this world dear.

I was born into America and Judaism, brought in with Jesus, God, and Spirit, I was welcomed into Africa, loved as a yogi, an artist, a musician all in one, I am a consumer, a creator, a destroyer, a friend, a lover, an enemy, a completer, a breaker, a question and an answer.

I desire life not for meaning, but just plainly because life is a desire. I desire this world for the truth that it brings me. I believe in life because life is made of energy, that flow, that rhythm, that is so profound inside me, in the world, in the land, in the vastness I can’t even understand. I choose this life for the desire I have because it is the air that moves through my lungs, the visions that come to me, the love that flourishes in me, the darkness I’ve seen and the reflection that it begs, like the moon, suffering, darkness, fear can’t inherently shine, but it begs for me to, so it can be the light of the night.