I left my home at 530 am for the drive to the I-5 and down to the Los Angeles area. It was still dark and as I drove the sky reached that deep indigo before dawn.

I passed over the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge and by San Quentin, where I said a quiet prayer for my dear friend and comrade, Jarvis Jay Masters.

It was strange passing by all the Oakland and Grand Lake exits without stopping, but I thanked the town, and knew as I passed each of these places, home, holding such a solid place in my heart.

The drive down the 5 was filled with Bruce Springsteen and the Dixie Chicks, songs that I could sing along to, loud. Driving alone, especially this first stretch, had my mind racing to all the questions for going, for taking off, and the lyrics of the songs seemed to coincide with my thoughts or stir up notions of feelings that then echoed around in my heart, that's why it was great to be able to belt out the lyrics along with the feelings.

This trip is an experiment and with that will be the great magic of listening, some times to the voices, and sometimes to the observation, the wonderment and the curiosity of what is silent, or has no words.