We all carry it. Tension. The what is, what if, and what will be of our days. We might develop peptic ulcers when we fail to deal with or use the tension. We might fill our fridges with the nursing power of a cheap drink or five. The tension builds, powered by our discursive minds. Until, like a dam wall in a flood, we break. For better or worse.

Five years ago, I suffered a traumatic wrist injury while playing rugby. Three years later, after experiencing knee pain, I discovered I was missing my PCL, the ligament responsible for connecting my upper and lower leg. I teach tennis for a living. I've given everything to the game over the last twenty years; formed my entire identity around that yellow-green ball crossing the net, landing inside the lines.

Tension.

Both injuries triggered similar reactions. When I hurt my wrist, I doom-searched the internet for six months, trying to find stories of people who'd suffered the same setback, assuring myself I'd be okay. But this worsened my inner turmoil, sending my mind into an OCD-type worrying about the future, shooting viles of adrenaline into the bulging purple veins of self-doubt. When I couldn't take anymore staring into the mirror of self-pity and preservation, I turned to something outside of me. I wrote a novel.

Three years later, after consulting numerous orthopedic surgeons for my knee, my mind began spiraling again. So I picked up my guitar, penning twenty-five songs, nine of which would feature on my debut album, A Stone in the Mouth of the Ocean.

The album is an exploration of tension, songs that venture through the what is, what if, and what will be. One can imagine the feeling of being a stone in the mouth of the ocean, perhaps similar to the struggle of trying to silence the mind during life's harrowing moments.

I was watching the sea crash against a shore lined with stones one day. A wave dislodged a stone and dragged it to the ocean floor. I couldn't help but feel like that stone, thinking about and trying to deal with my injuries. But after some time observing, I realized that eventually, the stone would resurface, carried by deep currents, back to the bed, shining again underneath the fiery sun.

It's no revelation that life's thrashings are a certainty for all of us- the constant pushing, pulling, failures, and disappointments. The struggle, great or small, is inevitable. And while the letting go is much easier said than done, when we're able to remain unreactive to the pounding waves, surrendering to the present moment, to something greater than ourselves, I believe it's possible to meet the pain with a stillness that carries peace and hope.
May these songs take you someplace good!