Making Music with Life


Turning the music a man hears inside into reality – thoughts on turning one’s actions into a symphony

I couldn’t take the monotone life anymore. I also couldn’t take marching to the beat of someone else’s drummer.

I had to create my own symphony.

Music has always had a profound influence on me. And then it occurred to me that I should start making music with my life. Let it flow through me in my actions and reactions to life.

I could hear the percussion begin as I ran away from the safety of everything I ever knew. Selling everything I owned to live out of three carry-on bags. To escape the flat line of drudgery. To flee being a mechanical animal. To wake myself up inside.

Then came the synthesizer as I set sail for the unknown. Open to anything that came my way. The bass guitar came as new people and new women in my life started to make me feel alive. Then came the rhythm and lead guitars as I was emboldened to take new risks like jumping into a truck and letting it take me for a ride on the sine wave of live, experiencing all the ups and downs and different landscapes and peoplescapes of a nation I had only seen through someone’s else’s eyes in the past.

The music grew louder and more dramatic as I ventured farther and farther from my safety net. I could hear the choir as I delved into experiences that made others question my sanity. I knew I was on the right path because the music sounded so good.

And now it’s onto new challenges, places, and people – taking risks like never before to see if can can create a masterpiece. To experience the most dramatic flourishes of life for the first time. A symphony of living.

I can hear the crescendo building now. I want to refine the music. To make all the instruments sing in perfect harmony. I believe this is the most challenging endeavor a man can undertake. Making music with his life.

Fear of having the music turned off motivates me to keep going. I can’t let the music stop.

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One comment

  • You’ll only be able to hit a cresendo as a WN, Remy.

    You’ll have to hang around superior men, like you’d find at CH or Rooshies. We have plenty of racially aware white ex-pats already. There is a difference between retirement / white flight and recovering.

    Becoming Fred Reed might be your future. He “could have” been something great. But his WN was weak. He got hooked on the taco, and is living it up in Mexico. Eating beans and drinking tequila while his real people suffer. White men dont’ cotton well to hedonism.

    Freddy is weak on the jew too.

    You get stronger living in the Murkan Police State. Keeps a man sharp, like invading an enemy’s camp.


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