These songs were written over a period of 2+ decades, in different parts of the world, at different stages of my life. They came of their own accord, infrequently or in clusters, often as resolutions of dilemmas I found myself in or as attempts to understand difficult situations from a more universal perspective. I recognized each song as a gift, a guiding light from the nameless spiritual benevolence. I also felt a responsibility to be attentive to each song until it felt complete. Some were birthed smoothly, others over a longer time and with more struggle over details. The spiritual dialogue of songwriting, and playing these songs, was mostly an internal affair until recently. Although I shared them occasionally, playing the piano was something I did when everyone left the house. It was a great pleasure. Although not normally shy, playing for others - especially my own songs - made me nervous and that was unpleasant. A few years ago my songs started to have a mid-life crisis. They insisted, "You're mortal. We don't have to be. Get over it." Any challenge that makes me grow usually proves worthwhile, and I have tried to confront that terror and venture out from my "cave." Around that time, my husband John said something at Quaker meeting about how we live by the cumulative grace of others. It suddenly occurred to me, what if nobody sang, ever? What if we were all too self-critical and no one in the past 100,000 years had ever sung or played music? So, I offer up these sound sculptures, with endless gratitude to the gift of song, and blessings of hope for the human race.