Clyde was more powerful than me, and I imagine he knew it, but he never tried to intimidate. Though I held the reins, at times we’d get a bit separated from the group, and I had to let him lead me through the brush. He needed a bit of steering, but many times he knew exactly where to go. I learned to trust him, relax, and follow. Clyde was my tour guide through his land, a majestic wide open space of grasslands, cool streams, sand dunes, and pine forests. Clyde walked slowly so I could take it all in. He knew there was no need to rush because where else could we possibly need to go?

All checked in at the ranch, and alone, I sat down at a picnic table and closed my eyes to take in the warm breeze. The table was weathered from years of hosting guests at the ranch as they flocked in, one small group at a time, with their denim jeans, long sleeved sun shirts, and wide brimmed hats. The scorching summer sun, flash storms, and cool rain had left their mark. My presence at the table would leave another.

I relished being a business-minded, analytical, problem-solving professional, but I also wanted to be a successful creative artist. It felt as if each side was preventing me from moving full speed ahead in those respective directions. Forging ahead with one side didn’t feel right when it would cause me to abandon the other. What was my career without the balancing effect of music and creativity? What was my creative life without my work, my interest in business, and my oversized, idea-provoking approach?

Far too many of us wake up and allow regrets over what we didn’t do, or what dreams haven’t come true, to unsettle us and disrupt a spirit of gratitude and contentment. I used to be plagued with thoughts of how I could’ve landed this opportunity in Nashville, or achieved this or that success, if I had just networked more or tried harder. I realized this: revisiting the past with present day awareness is fruitless because it can’t change a thing, but the opportunity to use the new awareness in the present is pure gold.

Mark Twain said, "The two most important days of your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why." Honestly, I spent a good part of my 20s and early 30s searching to figure out who and what I should become, and where I should fit in, as if life held a secret that I needed to uncover. But I had a problem: I never believed that God would make our "why" a secret that caused us to struggle an entire lifetime to find.

Here In The Highlands is a compilation of the u-turns and pathways I’ve discovered toward creating the life I’d always wanted. It typically begins with a trigger that leads to a courageous journey into one’s truest, deepest self. It then evolves into acceptance, momentum, and meaningful steps to a better life. This is my personal journal, the recording of my stories to share these revelations with you. My hope is that if you’re in need of a little push, my story will help get you moving too.