I wonder too much

Is that good or bad?

"Danger of Love" and "Blue Shadows"

These are 2 more demo songs that I recorded on a 10 day camping trip at the beginning of July. Here again, I am experimenting with different "organic" sounds with out effects or any mixing.

"Danger of Love" is one of the first song I wrote for the International Datelines that I always hated. It is hard to explain, but sometimes when you hear a song in your head as you write it will come out different when you play it with a group. And I always hated the way it turned out. And sometimes that happens, other people can't hear what you hear, you can't communicate what it is you hear and so on... It is a song that is really about my fear of falling in love. So when I write a song so deeply personal, I really want it to be just right, and it never was, so I always hated it. It was written for 2 people to sing so half the lyrics are missing naturally. Here I re-visit one more time at Ottawa Lake in Kettle Moraine State Park with only 2 tracks.

Track one: Guitar, Vocals, and a million birds

Track two: was recorded on the beach of Ottawa Lake, you can hear kids playing and boats. I put the carabiner that held my keys around the loop of my flippy floppies and smacked the bottom of my flip flops against the surface of the still lake as percussion. I realize I sing some what out of tune, but at that point I had attracted an audience and got self conscious. They saw me with my recording machine and headphones on and smacking the water with my flip flops and probably thought I was some kind of crazy hippy scientist or something. This became a reoccurring obstacle for me, but I learned to deal with it. This was the first song I recorded on my journey. Here is the link now: "Danger of Love"

The next song is a cover called "Blue Shadows" that is apparently written by Randy Newman, but I know no other version than the one in the movie the "Three Amigos!"

I sang this song nearly every night to myself. One lesson I tried to learn was to over come my fear of the darkness in the wilderness. I was all alone, there was nothing except me and critters and my fire. Frankly I am/was pretty scared, of the dark, of being alone in the woods, of noises and movement I can't see. I can climb up high things and jump off, no prob, I can catch a bat, I can comfortably give a speech to a large group of people, but I am terrified of lightning, and being alone in the woods when it is dark. I had to face that . I'm not going to lie, for me it was extremely hard. I can't even express how badly I wanted comforts of a conversation or headlights or a radio or something to take my mind off the fear of being alone in the midnight woods. But I did it and I feel more confident about my place in this world. I sang this to the stars to help myself relax the 6 nights I was alone. I don't even know where this was recorded, somewhere far out, and NOT on the crusty (not trusty) map.

Again 2 tracks

Track one:Guitar / Vocals

Track two: Me building a fire to have some light and calm my imagination down.

"Blue Shadows"

Mundane Old Guy Wisdom

Older folks are my favorite patients. I have a great deal of respect for them and try to listen intently when engaged with conversation, maybe because I am so intrigued with how their mind works and their attitude of the world.
Today I had a conversation with an 80 something year old gentleman, a former high school history teacher. He said to me vaguely looking at me with dirty glass eyes, but concentrating hard, he said, "Young man, I don't know you, I know your personality, but I don't know anything about you, and I am not the type of person who makes remarks of the impressions I get about people but I feel very compelled to say that I get a strong feeling that you should be on a boat. do you own a boat?"
"No," I said, "not yet, I'd like to. It's funny you mentioned that because I actually have heard that before."
"Well," said he stroking his 2 day old wrinkled white whisker chin "Take it from an old man now. Get yourself a boat and sail away while you are young." Old men, in case you haven't noticed that they are old, always like to mention to you that they are an "Old Man." Maybe the young populace wants to move in gears that spin un-compassionately for these folks, so they must constantly remind us of their status. It must be a very big honor, and perhaps that is another reason I enjoy working with the elderly.
"Next time I come in I expect you to have a boat young man."
"I can't afford a boat."
"Son, like I said, I look at you and I know you should be sailing."
"Why in the world would you see me here next time if I have a boat? (laughs)"
I got about 6 months until his next check-up.

Exclusive - The Last Elephant Walk Recording* / Tecumseh Takes / An Incredible Documentary / Long Blog / Skip to the End

It's on tape so it sounds so much better than you can hear it on the computer.

It's called "Panther in the Sky" and it is about Tecumseh, his little brother Tensquatawa, aka the Prophet and formerly Lalliwaska aka "makes a loud noise." It was the Prophet who led an army against the wishes of the Chief delegate, Tecumseh, and lost a critical battle in the war of Indian confederacy.

I care about this song a great deal because I feel so connected with the story. There is an amazing Documentary that PBS did a few years ago, a five part series called "We Shall Remain." I just watched this for the first time tonight and by Old Man Coyote if I couldn't hold back the tears at times, by Eagle's eye if I didn't clench my fist with cheers like every rabbit escaping Old Man Coyote's teeth. Watch this awesome story of Tecumseh and his brother Prophet. Maybe it reminds me of being an older brother that I am fond of this story. Maybe it is because it is the fire of a revolutionary spirit that burns hot in my hide bag like pepper seeds. The warrior, the medicine man, the delegate, the village idiot, the athlete, the clumsy, the proud, the humble, the thankful, the brothers, our brothers.

Watch the full episode. See more American Experience.

Prophetstown is a well kept secret. It seems no body in the area knows how to get to Prophets Rock, a mysterious and very esoteric geological formation in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. I'd like to keep it that way. They did not mention Prophet's Rock in the documentary which is good for our secret.

Want to learn more about Prophetstown? Check out this Midwest Beat vid seconds 23 - 1:37 ( which happens to be "Paraphernalia Awareness Hour.")for on location documenting footage of the oldest pool in Indiana and the roads as they look now. We did not include footage of Prophet's Rock for our secret. Both documentations above are filmed in the wabash valley as well and on location of Battleground, IN where you can find Prophets Rock if you look really hard, and it is totally worth it, that's all I can say.

I did a fucking book report on this song because I've always been so fasinated, read about it if you are interested in Native American History and for the original version of the song and lyrics yawn.

I love playing this song outside to the trees and stuff. I'm going to play it at Lovemom's on August 5th for Lovemom and stuff.

Recorded* at the Fortress two moons ago. We went through it once and recorded it. 1 track, acoustic guitar and maracas. Get the tape. I am not kidding, that is how the tape was played, no mixing, just pressing pause at the end when somehow I must have taped over me playing an Indian flute to birds. I realized this and had to revise this with this disclaimer. "Is That Too Much At the End?" I ask adam and then the tape continues to bird flutes? I think if I would have known that I would have known the answer to that question.

*footage too

The Perfect Shot pt 1 "Fall for Me"

It starts with the Earth
It tells your heels to "get off me!"
It tells your tippy toes that they can stay if they want because they are springy and gentle-
Then it changes from Earth into Body into Mind into Breath into Air and back to Earth.
It is NOT in the wrist. If you focus on one thing, the cycle will stagnate and perfection will not be achieved. Every moment must flow into the next, letting go, moving ahead.

I sing this song to my ball, it is a love song. I pine with my last zanshin breath before I run into the fence. I sing "Fall for Me Baby, Come on now, Fall for me..." I sing it pleading, "Oh come on now baby please fall! Fall for Me."
My favorite thing is a left handed lay up under the hoop and off the back board with fingers guiding my orb like a light house to a stormy ship. Fly high with a gentle love song -
Like this:

Was I just flying? I moved on.

"Jingle Application For Wisconsin Bureau of Tourism Attn: Summertime Divison, Please CC Department of No Plans"

Hello Sir or Ma'am,

My name is Kyle Denton and I am a Jingle Writer. I've noticed that your advertisements for tourism in Wisconsin may need a fresh "Green" sound for the future of the industry in our great state. Here I have provided a demo copy of a jingle for your records, ad hoc. It was recorded on one track on a sunny morning in the middle of the woods, that is why you can here the various types of birds chirping and the sounds of a sun tea container pouring a fresh morning cup. I would be willing to relinquish creative control of some of the lyrics, but I believe that the sound of the birds are an integral part to the tourism industry and implore you to consider keeping it in the final draft, in fact, recording the song in the woods once again with more sophisticated equipment that your budget will allow. Please CC those in charge of the department of no plans for any further correspondence. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Kyle Denton

Jingle Writer

Song link

All Things I did,

I wrote this early one morning before departing my lonely site, the 4th morning of 10.

I could go golfing with just one club

Land my ball in the lake - glub

I could go hiking

I could go biking

I could bird identifying

I could go fishing in one of the lakes so blue

I could go swimming with those fish too

I don't know what I'm gonna do and I don't care

Cause the only thing that I know

I forgot to pack my underwear

I could go camping by the cold stream

Keepin my cut offs clean

I could go thrifting

I could go boating

I think I'd rather be floating

Tubin' dOwN a river with my good friend Paul

Then jumping off the water fall

I don't know what I'm gonna do and I don't care

Cause the only thing that I know

I forgot to pack my underwear

Striped Animals and "Hard to Find"

"Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forest of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"

William Blake - "Songs of Experience"

Yeah, songs of experience. I wrote a lot of songs recently and experimented with different sounds and instruments all while in the lonely wilderness. This one I wrote during a picnic to the top of a waterfall in the top of wisconsin, which happens to be one of my all time favorite hidden spots. I brought my guitar and recorder thing. The water was flowing quite fast and high for July. Most of all it was incredibly loud. I wanted to capture that sound too, so that's what all the noise is. Then I jumped off it.

Track one: Tibetan Bell beads and 1/4 can of planters salted peanuts - snake pit

Track two: Guitar - Snake pit

Track Three: Vox/ c harp / Snake pit

Track Four: Vox / C Harp / Snake pit

Hard To Find link

Well I'm Broke as a rule

and Just like a fool

spent my last dime

on raisins and rye bread and wine

off to south seeking solace and my souls' redemption

Why is it so hard to find?

I once knew a girl

she was a soul mate of mine

she loved me and left me

out on the bridge that spans waterfall and love

oh to the great stars above

points out Aries her favorite and asks me what's mine

Why is it so hard to find?

it's around here somewhere

Robbed by Raccoons the y ran off in the woods with my Rye

Bread that is rightfully mine

I should chase them

but I think I'll wait here for you

Where you said you'd meet me

Please take my hand lead me to the brook where I can find

the trout that you had on your line

or was it just a line to get lost with my time?

Why is it so hard to find?

There's something that I've been meaning to tell you for some time

The words they're just stuck in my mind

on the tip of my tongue

I can't seem to express 'em

Why are the so hard to find?

Stripped animals:

"What happened to me out there in the wilderness? I cannot exactly say. My lips are sealed by the inadequacy of words." - Steven Foster

I learned about beauty. What it really means. Seeking change is to deny the beauty that you posses. Change is good too. But a Queen Anne's Lace doesn't seek to become the most brilliant. It is content with it's environment. Perhaps it is the most beautiful in the garden. But it can't deny the beauty of the wild rose, or the sound of the humble bumble being seduced to stop in. It changes with the season, the days, the sunset, the moment, it does not seek this change. It becomes it. It is always beautiful. In the Summer it blooms brilliant, in the fall it's skeleton blows away, in the winter it is a tiny snowflake under a microscope - a doily holding hot coco while fingers cut a piece of paper folded and folded again to trace it's memory, in the spring it pushes the earth away again.

So - "Raccoons in the moonlight, beautiful and cute, trying to open my cooler with their little hands."

Need Boo Radley

It's been a strange week and strange summer. I've been trying to reconnect with my sense of happenstance or what my psychic calls it, "You were blessed with a gift of timing." I always figured that but ever since I deleted my facebook and tried to roam the world, city, and streets in search of adventure and opportunities, they have developed 10 fold and always on time. This has been one of the best things I ever did, not knowing what is going on, or who is going to what thing, or what people are thinking, or where I am going r how I am going to get there or who am I going to see once I am there or even where anyone is -but reconnecting with my "gift" to figure it out on my own, and thus experience summer the way it should be experienced.

Jack Oblivion sings in his sleep. Yesterday, the Beat played with those guys in Chicago - we had to be at the venue at 5 so we had a long time to rest and relax and get to know each other. I napped next to Jack, our heads together where the couches met. Some people mumble or talk, some folks sleep walk. Jack O sings. Some (not gonna say how many) "sources" tell me I do the same. That's not so weird, you know what's weird? John Paul Keef sleeps with his eyes open, that's weird.
As for the night I would have to say it was one of the coolest nights in my history in the love of rock n roll. Bullshitting with Jack Oblivion and his band for hours, telling stories that will only be heard in a green room, talking about the meaning of some old Compulsive Gambler and Oblivion songs - like the inspiration and some deep confiding secrets that he would quickly cover up with, "what am I talking about? I'm drunk." And man oh man, the way these guys could tell a story. It was awesome. Yeah, faded, but not so jaded. "Do you remember that place Jack with all the fog coming out everywhere?" said JPK "No.....Oh yeah, I remember that, " jack would say, "That crazy Norwegian place that had the drum set built on the ceiling." and then shoot into a story with a honky tonk ghost story kind of appreciation to telling stories. Damn, so cool. Really awesome guys, total rockstars, and totally regular southern human guys who love rock n roll just like us.

Boo Radley has come up so many times lately. The setlist read "Need Boo Radley" instead of "Need You Badly" and the matchbook at the Empty Bottle has a picture of a cat's paw that says "Radley" above it, the owners late 19 year old cat that lived there named after the "to kill a mocking bird" character. I strive as hard as I can allow my conscious thought to enter my mind while playing NOT to say "Long time I wanna say now---I need Boo Radley" when singing Logan's song he lets me sing. You gotta keep conscious thought out of your mind when you play or you will trip over something, or look at somebody and lose your place, or whatever. It's best to pay on auto pilot and let your super conscious play the song for you, so I suppose if it wants to sing "need Boo Radley" next time I'll let it.

The other night while playing poker an attic on the 900 block of Chambers at about 1am, I saw waves crashing against the windows of the house across the street. Provoked by a car driving through a flash flood river basin, the water Over the car's headlights, the water level over the sidewalk, over the steps leading up to the front door to the house. Garbage bags just flowing down the street as fast as one can bike. I have never seen anything like that before.

"Darling You" cover

Someday, I believe Friday the 23rd of June at the VAult

CHRIS PERENNIAL w/ MEMBERS OF MIDWEST BEAT
BIRD SOUNDS (MN) (w/ Zabby from Big Action Records)
THE PRISONERS (OH) (members of The Wooly Bullies)
TRENT FOX & THE TENANTS

Chris is one of my favorite song writers currently. I get it. It's humble - It's desperate - It's fun. He is also one of the most hilarious people I know and I can't wait to share a stage.

Tonight I took a half hour and learned our whole set.

I'll include my rendition of "Darling You," a country song I heard for the first time when Chris was sitting behind me as I sit now, playing my guitar on a Saturday afternoon watching college basketball. I'll never forget the line "Even when I'm cold..... and Dead..... I won't get you outta my head, my Darling you." Never. I was instantly blown away when he sang it to the sleepy Perennials in my living room with his post Bloody Mary pre nap whisper that day. Listen to the original here and then listen to some more Perennials here.

"Darling You"

"Fire Fly Blues" (reflies)

This song came from 3 places:

1) I was at the cabin up north don't cha know and I was walking out to the pier- it was about 11 or so, the moon had yet to rise and what do I spy but a flightless fire fly. I cuddle him to my sandal and walk out to the pier to meet my friends. He was like a little beacon in a James Bond movie, in the complete dark we could track his path up my leg swirly staircase style, around my hip, up my torso up my neck and up my ear until he got to the top of my head and just sat still, like a kyle lighthouse- and I remained still his entire trip up me but once he was on my head I couldn't stop laughing. It was amazing.

2) I found a melody like I always do, forgot it like I always do, but somehow remembered it- I found it originally as I slapped my knees on a late night bike ride home. I was not holding on to my bike, I was slapping my knees because

3's) I had suffered a broken rib earlier in the night and it was incredibly painful to bend over and grab the handles of my bike. So I sang to hummed and whistled to keep my mind off the pain. I can't sing very well right now with out pain so this song was done in a quiet lullaby style dedicated to the kingdom of the fire fly, the greatest creatures representing a youthful living midwest summer's night and finding love between the darkness.

Here is "Fire Fly Blues"

Track 1 guitar /vox

track 2 ham bone /vox

I'm starting to realize the internet version of these unmixed recordings is a thousand times shittier than it normally sounds shitty, and I'm sorry, I don't know how to mix, I don't know how to make things sound good. I just have a dumb on-board mic on my recorder. They are demos. I write them, play them once, record them and never play them again. So this is "just for the record" kind of thing. Maybe I'll go back and look at some songs and do it the right way someday when I actually feel good about songs I write.

Toooo night
I’ll fall from the sky
I don’t know where I’ll land
I don’t know where I stand
but I’ll light my way to you

Moon beams
June dreams
Of dancing with you in the stars
The sky would be ours-
put me in a jar
and keep me far
away
ba-bay,
but I’d still leave the light on for you
that’s what I was born to do
ooooh oooh ohh oooooooooh.

I’ll flutter near
between there and here
I don’t know where I’m going but I’ll know once I get there

If you held me tight
my body would light
It would all be clear
this big atmostphere built for two
me and you

burnout not fade away
remember me the next day
let me on my way

"Cherry Bomb" cover

What am I doing this Friday night?...hmmmmm lets see.

I know, I'll start by learning a song and recording it on the first take of learning it and put it on the internet for everyone to listen to, but no one will. That seems like a good start.

How to Exercise a Song that Possesses You: Learn it and sing it and then when someone else hears it it goes from your head into theirs and it's gone like a demon. Right?

Whatever. I want to play music but I'm lonely. Somebody invite me and my guitar over to your house, we'll bring beer and grapes, cold grapes.

Cherry Bomb

Track 1 = guitar/vox

Track 2 = Tibetan bell beads(hand one)/ back of acoustic guitar slap (hand 2)/ vox

zero mixing as always with this shit.

Thanks for stopping by.

Wheels on Fire mother fucker

Mundane Housecalls

I'm not as good at as many things as some of my friends, but I was taught by a Catholic family at a young age not to envy and that lesson has always remained clear. I cherish knowing I have friends that are better at me than things I want to be good at. I was also taught not to brag and be humble, so not unlike the old courts of royalty allow me to decree a "Make way for the king" before I toot my own horn, but there is one thing I'm really good at, and it ain't basketball. I'm the Joe Perry of basketball, I suck and I look like a white idiot with a dumb outfit sucking.
Nope, I'm good at taking care of people. It is the most natural thing I have ever done. I was born gentle, I can focus and stay very calm in emergencies -like the time I did CPR when a van flipped off the road in the middle of the night and the ---long story short, I don't take speed because of a pact I have with Queztacoatl except coffee, and also cause speed sucks.- I am not a good listener if there are girls in the room, nor can I participate in a good conversation with out going to my wits end- however in a patient setting, I absorb all body movements and expressions and quirks of the voice as well as the actual concern and transform it into my own psyche. It is what I was born to do, help people who need help, and I love to do it. It brings me pleasure to hear that I make people feel better, but I don't need to hear it. It is nice enough to take a tissue and wipe away tears and make a trembling frown turn into a half smile, that is a great "thank you," that is a great "you really make me feel more comfortable." You don't have to say it, I was already reading your mind the moment I shook your hand with a smile and looked into your eyes and felt your pulse for 1/2 second before I brought you back. i know exactly what to say, I know how to make my voice say it, I know how to breathe and be calm and give off vibrations that can...
Make way for the King, toot toot toot toot
I'm good at it and I'm proud of it and I know I have skills that can not be taught.
That said, I will face one of my toughest patients these next few weeks. My stubborn brother. He just had a crazy disease and had emergency surgery and now he is couch bound for weeks. I will check on him, walk his dog, make him lunch and stuff like that everyday. He completely disarms my compassion simply by being my little brother -too stubborn for real compassion from his big brother who is more capable of him right now, a fact that gives him a lot of grief I'm sure. I can't get to him like I can with my patients, he has this force field that won't open up to me, and because he is my brother and I punched him in the stomach several times growing up, I don't think I have the right to come in. But in this case and as with many cases I deal with loosing my compassion, I always keep the right action, and sometimes that is what the patient really wants.
B:"Make me a sandwich bitch."
Me:"Spit sandwich coming up... toasted?"
B: "Did the dog go poop?"
Me:"Yeah, it shit all over it's fucking tail, jesus. You guys are both incompetent."

Me: "Let me see your wound, ah that's sick, let me touch it, that's fucking gross. That's fucking awesome and gross. I can't believe they taped that gauze to your pubes, lemme pull that tape off..."
B: "Fuck off!"
Either way I always leave the house behind with a "Thanks Kyle." Not that I need to hear that cause I know when someone is appreciative, but it's nice. Like the time I gave him stitches at my big house party after I properly anesthetized his hand, and pushed the fats of his hand back inside and sewed them up like a pro, "What the fuck you idiot?! You're lucky I have fucking stitches here and anesthetic cause I'm too drunk to drive you to the emergency room, god dammit Brock there's fucking blood everywhere." (laughs)

Lemme tell a bit about my trip or "The Story of Sand Foot"

A long time ago in my life, I was Christianed Kyle and shortly after that I understood what that meant and I don't quite remember the moment I realized what that meant to be Kyle but I know now so I knew then- however I will never forget the moment I realized what my other name meant, my spirit name, my Native American name given to me not by my paternal parents at birth, my name "Sand Foot" rather "He who walks with sand"

"the image:

The Great Sky meets the Great Water

he can see that

he is not there-

The Great Water meets the Earth

he walks there"

and the image continues to share wisdom about the process of how sand is made over time with water and earth, slow movements and such, gentle winds, all kinds of elements really and I can't tell the other story of how I got this name because I promised to keep it a secret and you would probably think I'm crazy anyway if'n that is not already the case but it is a good story please take my word, then there is that moment that it occurred to me what that meant to be Sand Foot

This morning in Lake Superior's icy baptism the sky was as part pink as it was blue and the sun just began its chores of moping up the puddles of the storm from the night before taking molecular particles of water from the ground and zipping them up from the earth that is a remote island a sacred place for the Natives, for the white settlers, and for the tiny group of people who live there still in the middle of the greatest lake of all time plucking them from the leaves, these tiny drops right up to the sky right past my nostril hairs and overgrown beard and into the mop bucket that is the puffy clouds -the sun smiling as he works making the birds whistle for him - the lake as still as the glass frame that holds the pictures of your grandparents wedding as if it had been in the hallway this whole time and every time you visit -so old and still and hard not to wonder when looking at and clean as a whistle and clear as the air. The shock of the temperature on my feet alone wiped my mind clean, just look around, the clouds, the sky, the beach, the water, the trees, the bog, the eagles, the islands and islands, what to think? How could one? There isn't a thought in the world, not even the dimmest would have the audacity to enter my mind at a moment like this, it is blank like the walls of the newest hospital and then the right thought steps forward and declares itself with one confident word, the right thought like Buddha talked about said "home" and it came under much discussion in my radio-less-van-driving mind some time later that day when I was allegedly driving "home" from the reflexes my ego told me and questioned "Where is that exactly?" and the ego being a slippery devil replies with a smart ass answer like "Why don't you just look at that crusty (not trusty) old map and let me figure it out?" and my higher mind, being a higher mind, concedes to retort to engage this conversion but keeps to itself the fact that the ego has no idea what "it" (not "I'm"- for that would give the ego a smile and let him drive the way home) is really talking about. But what I really meant is Home, like the place where you can:

Take a shower.

Listen to music, not the music like the sound of a mosquito landing or the wind in the tress but music- you know.

sleep in a bed that is NOT the Earth.

have a moments rest from bugs.

for once in the past 10 days.

And if the High Mind would reply he might say

and is that really what "home" is? because I'd like to bring exhibit A to the bench your honor (Sand Foot / Kyle) the adage "Home is where the heart is" because as you can see your honor you are quite "home" according to counselor Ego, yet you are in a place it has failed to meet it's singular definition of requirement. For if Home is really where the heart is then you would be watching the stars leave their pinholes swooping across the sky and crashing splashing to the middle of Lynx Lake, you would be under the old oak tree on Castle Rock Lake and using the leave pile as a maraca and the acorns in the beers bottles as drums, you would be fishing with the highest mind and telling the worms, pleading, begging not to squirm because if they just hold still it won't hurt as bad I hope, or you would be behind the waterfall of Amnicon falls leaving a message in the cave for someone who is running late and won't meet you in time, or you would be on captain Bobby's boat on the fly deck trolling the outer limits of the Apostle islands past the happiest eagle, not seagull, not beagle and definitely not people, but EAGLE on Basswood island because that is, your honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury, where in fact your heart really is, yet you are not there- or let me pose this to you as a closing argument, perhaps you are.

but being a higher mind he does not engage that conversation with a bumbling Ego

and being the right thought that comes in the right way just like Buddha talked about traveled up through my brain and down to my belly where it started to shake and it became audible and I'm saying it over and over in a steady tone but it sounds like the same tone that I realized that a heart chakra bell is tuned to, it's in the key of D and if you say it with your entire respiratory system it changes the cells in side your body and of course you are not saying "home" but say it like this "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM"

and in this icy baptism you can't think, you have to let go like me and chant ohhhmmm until your body knows it is ready and you raise your arms over your head and press your palms together and keep them as flat as you can, pressing still together as you bring them shape from over your head and down to your heart and up again to above your head and dive in. Floating around for what seemed years and taking it all in, and it may have been the icy waters but I was still left breathless as I gazed at God's work, and the island wont make you believe in God - but he who has little faith will leave the island a disciple of The Church of God's Beauty and the Most Incredible Thing I Have Ever Seen being ordained of course in the temple of that church on the very island- and with that authority given to a disciple a proper baptism can be conducted with a right mind and a right thought and so I go about the proverbial ringing and rinsing and repeating of my my dirty soul in the placid water making its solitary waves from me to Canada and my soul feels clean again- that is of course until I step on the beach and it is covered with sand just like my other foot - and that is when it occured to me what it really meant to be Sand Foot. Sand Soul. and it has nothing to do with the sand I tracked everywhere I went.