I just finished watching a PBS documentary on Woody Guthrie. What kept me riveted to the television was the fact that no matter what happened in his life he couldn't stop writing. One story spoke about him being hold up in a loft with friends. He would bang away on a typewriter all night long and just peel out page after page of lyrics, stories, poems, and just toss them to the floor. His friends would wake up and find the floor littered with filled pages. It was wonderfully done documentary which really grasped my attention. He travelled back and forth across the country his entire life. His story although fascinating boiled down to the simple fact that he was driven to write and perform music that spoke of the life and country that existed around him. In the end Woody died of Huntington's Disease. The last minutes of the documentary described Woody attending a folk concert in New York City. He was consumed by this horrible disease which leaves the mind intact but disables your muscles and ability to speak. With nurses by his side one of the groups performed his song, This Land Is Your Land. He began flailing his arms in unison to the music with such fervor that the nurses asked the group to stop before Woody injured himself. He died in 1967. His life was certainly a mixed bag of experiences. The main point of this post was the connection I felt each time the documentary's timeline discussed his need to write. I find myself constantly searching for a sign from something or someone from somewhere. It never leaves me for a moment. My personal conflict comes when I can't see anything up ahead. Many of my posts begin with an inspiring photograph, -- a trigger, a spark. If I sit down and try to muster up a post without having a ignition point I simmer like a pot of water that just won't boil. It's actually painful and distracts me from other tasks. It's an endless loop that consumes me from that first snooze button swat to that last late night pillow punch. I could never have imagined myself sharing thoughts like this with the world a few years ago. Now I can't imagine life without this freedom at my fingertips. My goal in life is to fine tune this dream into something more. Something substantial and vital. For now I will continue to simmer happily. The water is warm and comfortable. The future holds something more. The signs are there. I just have to uncover the next one.