to wake up  and find myself longing for the psalms . . . . .

this is how it was, even when things were so bad, and I miss this more than anything.

to have prayer again become a chore to be postponed whenever possible is not why I came here.

without you this place becomes the worst of nightmares -

taking refuge again in my music - this is retrograde. . . . . . . .

I will not allow this place, this work, to come between us.  . . .  .

some steely determination is clearly needed.