As a young kid I lived in a little town south of Detroit: I was raised on soul, Motown, funk, disco, and basically whatever other “black music” my mom could shake her moneymaker to during the 60s and 70s. I inherited that gene, thankfully. My personal search for soul happened on a dance floor, too.
Some people talk about how finding stillness is more and more difficult in this modern age, where we go go go go go all the time, where a momentary chance for stillness is replaced by checking Facebook on a smartphone, but it’s something we humans have apparently had difficulty with for thousands of years already, even before handheld distractions. I find some comfort in this, honestly, because I’m a doer. I’ve always been a human doing. I was raised by hardworking, blue-collar folks with a hardcore work ethic; I have such difficulty as a human simply being.
