Out of the Way, It's a Busy Day

For much of the time I have played musical instruments, I have struggled with technique.  For whatever reason, I never seemed to have quite the dexterity I wanted to move my fingers fast enough to play highly technical (i.e., fast passages with lots of notes) pieces.  Now, I'm still not the world's greatest technician, but I have dramatically improved recently.  More importantly though, I know now that I have the capacity to be very strong technically.  It started with the realization that there weren't any physical limitations impeding my abilities.  I mean we're just talking about nerves firing, muscles contracting, tendons pulling.  I can do all those things.

So once I figured out that there wasn't any physical reason to keep me from flying my fingers up and down the neck of the guitar, I had to ponder the question of why they weren't.  It became pretty apparent to me that the impediment was mental.  I realized that I was just thinking too much about what I was trying to do.  I needed to stop thinking, and just do it.

I began to practice with the goal of not thinking about what I was doing and I found myself slipping into that state.  Unfortunately, when I would become aware of this nonthinking state I started thinking about it. Being able to let yourself go in this way is just another thing that must be practiced and learned.  I've adopted a little mantra to help myself let go.  When a little too much concentration starts to seep in, I just tell myself, "Stay out of your own way."

So I had lunch with another mediator today.  At one point in the discussion we were talking about the uncertainty that arises during mediations and how the mediator needs to make decisions in the face of a lot of unknowns.  When talking about making those decisions, she said, "Just trust the process."  To me she was saying that she has to rely on knowing that if she keeps going through the steps she knows to take in mediation that the process will unfold appropriately.

It occurred to me that the process of letting go while playing an instrument was really just trusting the process involved in your musical technique.  The mediator who is truly trusting the mediation process, is staying out of their own way.

Today's post title is taken from the lyrics, of the Pink Floyd classic, Us and Them off the Dark Side of the Moon album.

Right to be Wrong

The other night I was practicing my bass.  I was working on playing lines where I would need to move my hand along the fretboard as opposed to lines that involved my left hand staying in one place.  One of the goals was to be aware enough of the neck of the bass that I didn't need to look to make sure I landed in the right spot when I moved my hand.  Things were going along pretty well when at one point I went one fret too far with my fingers and landed on a wrong note, a note that was out of key for the chords I was playing over.

When I hit that wrong note I was able to move back to the right notes without too much difficulty.  It didn't sound great though and it would probably have been apparent to anyone listening that I had made a mistake.  Something inside told me that there was opportunity in that mistake.  I needed to make it again, fearlessly and I could do so because it wouldn't sneak up on me, I would  know it was coming.  I needed to embrace the wrongness of the note.  So I did, I consciously made the same mistake - without looking, I might add - and just let that note ring.  I listened to how it sounded.  I noticed that while it was definitely uncomfortable, it was also compelling.  It was like I was caught in a tractor beam.  I applied some rhythm to that note and allowed myself to listen to its wrongness comfortably, and that meant I could react to the wrong note, not from a position of fear, but from a musical position.  I could think about how to comfortably, musically get back to right notes.

I then explored some different ways to move from the "wrong note" back to the "right notes".  I listened to how that sounded as well and it was soothing.  As much tension had existed while the wrong note was ringing, there was that much relief when I was back on right notes.  It occurred to me as a musician that an audience will have a lot of room to forgive, perhaps even appreciate those "wrong" notes as long as you take them back to a comfortable place in the end.  Play fearlessly - mistakes will occur - but it's not about mistakes happening, it's about how you react to mistakes.

The mediator's equivalent to a musician's notes are his words.  Just as a musician has to deal with the inevitability of playing a wrong note, a mediator has to deal with the fact that he will inevitably choose some words that will rub one of the participants in mediation the wrong way.  Such situations certainly have the potential to completely derail the proceedings, so it is essential that the mediator be comfortable once they hit a "wrong note".  They must have the ability to lead the conversation back on track in a graceful manner to allow things to keep moving forward.

Having this ability carries with it another important benefit.  If one knows how to comfortably recover from a mistake, then there is no need to fear making a mistake.  Just as the best musicians are able to play without fear, so must the best mediators be able to do so without fear.  If one strives to mediate fearlessly then they will have the best opportunity to reach their full potential.  So launch away into your mediations with abandon and without fear.  Will you hit a "wrong note"?  More than likely yes, but you won't be worried about that.  Like any great jazz musician, you will know how to play the "wrong notes" right!

The title of today's post is the name of a song by Joss Stone.

Simplicity It Works For Me

Music seems immensely vast, but is it?  My response is that music is actually immensely simple ... but also immensely vast.  Now before you accuse me (hat tip to Mr. Clapton) of giving an obviously lawyer answer allow me to explain.

Music is immensely simple.  Western music is made up of twelve distinct pitches.  For those not familiar with musical theory, the easiest way to visualize this is by looking at a single octave of a piano keyboard:

Note there are seven white keys and five black keys.  If you play your way through each of those twelve notes you have played every note used in western music.  Wait a second, I hear you saying.  I've seen pianos before and they have way more keys than that.  It's true they do, but the above pattern just repeats a little over 7 times.  As the pattern repeats, so do the pitches they just sound in a higher register, so we've only got 12 notes to choose from - simple right?  But wait, that's not all!  Conventional notions of melody and harmony are based on scales, groups of fewer than all 12 notes.  The two most common types of scales, major scales and minor scales, consist of seven notes each.  So, if you restrict yourself to only playing "right notes" your playing will be made up of no more than seven of these twelve.  Even simpler.

Or so one might think until one reads about one George Van Eps who helps us unfold the immense vastness of music.  In addition to being a performing musician, George also wrote instructional books, one of them entitled Harmonic Mechanisms for Guitar.  I can't begin to say I'm at a point in my musical journey where I can grasp the content of this work (it's made up of three hefty volumes) but it is basically an analysis of all the different ways to string notes together along the fretboard of a guitar.  Now you might say, we're only talking about twelve notes, why would he need three hefty volumes to talk about that?  Some understanding of the answer to that question lies in an early section  starting on page 17 of Volume 1 titled General Remarks - Selectivity.  Van Eps observes that if six objects are placed side by side that there are 720 unique ways to arrange those objects (this is a factorial calculation).  If the six objects are strings on a guitar and you were playing each sting "open" (without putting any fingers on the fretboard) then you would have to play 720 different 6 note sequences before you would repeat.

On a guitar fretboard the frets are spaced in a way so that as you place your finger on the next highest fret and pluck the string you are getting the same change in pitch as if you played the next highest key on a piano.  Fretboards vary in lenght but usually have 22-24 frets.  Therefore you can play more than one cycle through the 12 available notes on each string of the guitar.  To simplify things lets look just at one cycle through the twelve notes.  If we look at those twelve notes and think of how many unique twelve note combinations we can make up the answer is going to be to calculate the factorial of twelve.  Since factorials progress geometrically, the factorial of twelve is way more than twice the factorial of 6; 479,001,600 to be exact.  That's right, to play through all the combinations of the note in one octave on one guitar string would require almost half a billion combinations.

There are six strings on a standard guitar, so if you were going to perform this exercise on each of the strings you would have to play 6 x 479,001,600 combinations.  If however you wanted to include combinations that would contain notes played on different frets and different strings the calculation would actually be 720 x 479,001,600.  To keep our calculators from shorting out let's just round the answer down to the next lowest billion and we'll see that we would have to play over 344 billion combinations to get through the various ways to connect a sequence of six notes on a standard guitar.

On a standard guitar then these twelve simple notes can produce over 344 billion six note combinations.  If Van Eps hadn't blown people's minds enough, he went on to point out that if you could play each combination in a second and you were to play 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year then it would take over11 thousand years to play through every combination.  He went on to point out that contemporary musical theory has existed for about 400 years, compellingly leading to the ultimate conclusion - we've just begun to scratch the surface of what can be done with these twelve simple notes.

The takeaway to apply to mediation is this.  Disputes are not either simple or complex, they are both simple and complex.  At the heart of any legitimate dispute be it two neighbors arguing over a tree growing over a fence or billion dollar corporations arguing the fate of multimillion dollar projects is a basic and simple truth.  At least one party feels a wrong that needs to be redressed.  Figuring out the details of that simple truth is often incredibly complex.  As mediators we need to be able to operate with both the simplicities and the complexities to be effective.

Today's post title is the opening line from a song called Simplicity by Bob Seger.

My Name is Victa

One thing musicians love to talk about is their influences - other musicians who have impacted their approach to music and how they make music.  One of my big influences is a man that I regard as one of the preeminent bass players in the world today - Victor Wooten.  Victor first attracted my attention not long after I started playing bass.  What first grabbed my attention was his incredible technique; the man has so many ways to allow his music to come through his instrument.  

Victor is particularly known for the double thumb technique which he uses to play very fast percussive lines on his bass.  As I listened to Victor play more though I realized that he is about way more than flashy technique.  He is also amazingly musical.  Typically bass is not a solo instrument and even in a group setting will not take a lead role.  The bass is generally considered a supporting instrument.  Now Victor definitely fills this role with his bass playing, but he also can take the lead and play melodically.  In fact, on his first album, called A Show of Hands bass is the only instrument on the album.

One tune that Victor is particularly known for is a solo performance of Amazing Grace.  Here is a video of one of those performances:

 

Now clearly Victor is an amazing musician, but he goes beyond that.  He is also a very interesting thinker.  He has published a book called The Music Lesson: A Spiritual Search for Growth Through Music.  In the book, Victor discusses different elements of music.  The lessons apply beyond the realm of music and also can be applied to life in general.  In fact a lot of what inspired me to explore the connection between mediation and music were the ideas in Victor's book.  So you see, not only is Victor a musical influence on me, he is also an influence in other areas.

Today's post title is the opening line of a song off of Victor's Album, Soul Circus.

Three is a Magic Number

The focus of my music when I was young was playing in school bands.  Back then, my focus was entirely on working to push the right keys on my instrument, blow into it the right way and get the "right" sounds.  I was very much learning how to play the pieces we were playing by rote.  I also didn't go any further than the physical act of moving fingers over and air through the instrument back then.  To put it another way, all I paid attention to was how to be a clarinet player or a bassoon player.  I was doing nothing to learn how to be a musician.

Instrumental musicians describe things relating to the physical playing of the instrument as "technique".  Technique covers how you hit the keys on a piano, how you blow into a trumpet and how you strike a guitar string.  There's no doubt that being proficient with technique is very important to being a good musician.  It is not, however, the be all and end all of musicianship like I thought when I was younger.  I've come to understand that musical skills can basically be divided into three categories.  We've already talked about technique.  The second category is theory.  Theory means understanding the "rules" that govern music.  Examples of theory would be knowing that the C Major scale contains the notes C, D, E, F, G, A and B with no sharps or flats or knowing that the G Minor Seventh chord has the notes G, B flat, D and F in it.  The last category of musical skills is a little more ambiguous.  Let's call them Feel.  Feel skills are what lets a musician change what they are doing with their music to alter the listener's experience.  These are the skills that enhance the emotional appeal of music.

I've read before that someone can be a passable musician simply by excelling at one of these three areas.  Someone who excels at two of the three areas will often be seen as a very good musician.  When you get someone who excels at all three areas - those are the transcendent musicians, the ones you can listen to for hours.

I think there is another way to describe these three categories that helps to take this concept beyond music and into applicability for other areas.  Technique involves using your body, theory involves using your brain and feel involves using your heart.  When the different aspects of musicianship are considered in this way, it becomes easy to apply these aspects to other areas.

Mediator skills can also break down into these three areas.  The mental aspect of mediation lies in understanding different theories relating to negotiations, human dynamics and particularly conflict.  The physical aspect of mediation lies in observing people who are participating in mediation, being aware of what their bodies are saying and being in control of your own body, voice and mannerisms.  The heart aspect of mediation lies in having a sense of what is going on with the participants and how to alter what you are doing with your mind and body to increase the likelihood of resolution.

I've had experience in front of many mediators in my career.  Based on that I would say what is true for musicians is true for mediators.  Someone who excels in one of the three areas will be an acceptable mediator in many cases, although they likely won't have much luck with tougher cases.  Someone who can excel in two of the three areas will be a good mediator, probably able to get some pretty tough cases resolved.  Someone who excels in all three areas, well those are the who have the ability to deal with even the toughest cases.

Today's post title is the title of a Schoolhouse Rock piece.  For those not familiar, Schoolhouse Rock was a series of short cartoons set to music that would come on during the commercial breaks of Saturday morning cartoons starting in the mid seventies.  The pieces were educational, teaching about grammar (Conjunction Junction, what's your function?), civics (I'm just a bill, yes I'm only a bill, and I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill), and multiplication.  For those of us of a certain age, these short cartoons were a nice supplement to our education.  When it came time to review the multiplication table for three we all learned that Three is a Magic Number. Appropos of today's post is one verse in particular:

The past and the present and the future,
Faith and hope and charity,
The heart and the brain and the body,
Give you three as a magic number. 

I definitely aspire to use heart, brain and body as both a mediator and a musician.

You Never Even Called Me by My Name

I wanted to tell the story of how the blog got its name.  It was one of those moments where everything just seemed to fall in place.  I had been talking to the Mrs about some of the thoughts I was having about the interrelation of music and mediation and at some point she piped up with the thought that I should write a book about these ideas.  Writing about them was definitely intriguing, but a book seemed a bit daunting.  The idea of blogging though was very intriguing.  I felt comfortable that there were enough related ideas floating around in my head that I could generate enough content to get myself locked into the blogging groove, so I floated that idea.  Mrs thought that was a good idea and suggested calling it "Peace Music and Everything Else".  Catchy, I thought, but not quite there.

At that moment, I happened to be playing a jazz album I had recently downloaded.  The album is by a bass player named Janek Gwizdala and I found the album to be excellent background music for when I wanted to work or otherwise concentrate.  It's the kind of music that makes you feel very "centered" when listening to it.  I caught a glimpse of the album cover in my iTunes library.  The name of the album is, The Space In Between.  No need to hit me over the head again, "The Space Between" seemed like a great shorthand descriptor for the connection between these two things.  In fact that album is now the de facto soundtrack for me while I'm blogging.

It also occurred to me that it would be good to throw in some explanation relating to the post titles.  No big secret, they're all taken from song lyrics or names.  I thought I'd close each post with a little reference to that day's song.  Today's post title is the title of a song originally written by Steve Goodman and most famously recorded by David Allen Coe.  It starts out as a fairly standard country song about a man done wrong by a woman.  After a few verses, Coe goes into a verbal break talking about how when Goodman first wrote the song, he told Coe it was the perfect country and western song.  Coe talks about writing Goodman a letter telling him that he had not written the perfect country and western song because he hadn't said anything about mama ... or trains ... or trucks ... or prison ... or gettin' drunk.  Coe then continues the story by talking about how Goodman then wrote another verse to the song and sent it to Coe.  After Coe got this final verse, he realized that Goodman had indeed written the perfect country and western song, so Coe felt obliged to put it on the album.  The last verse goes a little something like this:

Well, I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison
and I went to pick her up in the rain
but before I could get to the station in my pickup truck
she got runned over by a damned old train.

Yes indeed, the perfect country and western song!

The Space Between

Alright, we've talked about Peace, we've talked about Music, so it must be time to talk about The Space Between.  Just what do I mean by The Space Between?  Working in the area of mediation involves a lot of understanding how people relate to each other.  I have come to believe that by building my understanding of how we relate to music, I can better understand how people relate to each other and therefore be more effective as a mediator.  I see there being a connection between music and mediation, and "he Space Between is my label to describe that connection.  I wanted to tell the story of when I first recognized the connection, my apple falling from the tree moment if you will.

It stemmed from one of those times when my wife and I got, shall we say, a bit cranky with each other.  I have absolutely no idea what the subject matter of our crankiness was, but I can distinctly recall the pattern of escalation that was involved.  At some point in the conversation, I felt tension from my wife, and I tensed up.  She felt my tension and hers increased.  I felt her tension increase, and increased mine even further.  Back and forth we went getting more and more stressed, and more and more cranky.  At some point there's this kind of mutual recognition of the absurdity of what we're doing and we allow ourselves to relax and then each of us feels the other relax, and relaxes further and so on and so forth until we're no longer cranky.

In going over what had happened in my head, I was struck by how I could actually feel when my wife tensed and when she relaxed, I mean physically feel it.  Looking at how my responses generated further response from her I concluded that she could also feel the tension and relaxation from me.  It reminded me of what can happen when you pluck a guitar string.  The way a guitar produces music has to do with the vibration of the string.  When you pluck a guitar string, it vibrates in a standing wave pattern at a frequency that is determined by the length of the string.  By placing fingers on the string at different places along the guitar's fretboard the player changes the length of the string.  Different string lengths equal different frequencies and specific frequencies equal certain notes.  For example, middle C (the C note in the middle of a standard size piano keyboard) vibrates at a frequency of about 261.626 Hz.

When one guitar string is plucked, the strings next to it can also start vibrating due to sympathetic vibration.  I think this is in essence what was going on between my wife and I.  I started to feel her vibrating at a certain frequency, which caused me to do the same, which further altered the frequency of her vibration and so on and so forth.  Think about it, when you try and describe how a certain person makes you feel, you talk about the "vibe" you get off of them.  Now think about this, is there a person in your life who literally makes you smile when you see them?  What about someone who can put your stomach in knots just by walking into a room?  Do you feel those reactions physically?  Why is that?

Let's get back to music.  It's said that certain combinations of notes played together are happy sounding while other combinations sound sad.  The difference between those note combinations is the frequency patterns they produce when they are played together.  So, we're already very familiar (even if we didn't realize it) with the idea that different frequency patterns affect emotional response.  Take it another step, is there a song that compels you to move somehow, even if it's just to chair dance?  See, you're familiar with the idea of different frequencies producing different physical responses as well.

Relating these ideas back to human interaction, it seems logical to conclude that the "vibrations" we talk about getting off of other people are literally wave patterns that they are producing.  The waves are hitting us and are some how processed in our brains to trigger certain physical and emotional responses the same way that our brains process the waves that make up music and trigger certain emotional and physical responses.  Of course, the gate swings both ways and that means that things I learn about being an effective mediator can also help me be a better musician, so bonus!

I Got the Music in Me

While conflict resolution has been a part of my entire adult life, music has been a part of pretty much my entire life.

I come from a family with a really rich musical tradition.  My grandmother and grandfather were both accomplished singers and my grandmother was a skilled pianist and organist.  She obtained a masters degree in music in the twenties, a time when that much formal education for a woman was very unusual.  Their skills passed down through my mother and on to my brother and me.  I remember singing in children's choirs at church by age 7 or 8, but it was still a few years before the bug really bit.

One day, in the fourth grade, the music teacher came in to class and told us all that we were now able to sign up for violin lessons as part of the school's music program.  Right then, I knew that was something I wanted to do; the idea of using an instrument to produce music, well I guess it literally sang to me.  I rushed home from school that day eager to talk to my parents about getting signed up for lessons.  Mom though, had something different in mind.  She was all for me taking music lessons, but not the violin.  Her rule was simple, before I could take up any other instrument, I needed to put in two years of piano lessons.  By her thinking, the piano was really the foundation instrument, and an understanding of piano play would enhance both the ability to play other instruments and the ability to grasp general music theory.  Not that she told me that at the time, I mean come on, I was ten, but I've figured it out since then.

At the time I regarded this as a crushing blow, but of course, mom really does know best and those two years of piano really have served as the foundation for my musical understanding.  A lot of times, even today, when I'm visualizing something musically, I will picture a piano keyboard as a way of identifying the "right notes" and then translate that on to my current primary instrument, electric bass.  In addition to that, by waiting two years to start the lessons through the school system, I was now eligible for not just violin lessons, but also wind instruments: clarinet; trumpet; and saxophone.  Something about how the trumpet changed notes depending on how you blew into it seemed strange to me and I was far to young to grasp how sexy a saxophone was at the time, so I chose the clarinet, at least to start.

I say to start because I fell into this pattern where every couple of years I would pick up a new instrument.  I immediately started taking to instruments that played in the lower register.  First was the bassoon.  Now the bassoon is not a common instrument for kids to start playing.  In fact, that was one of the things I liked about it.  Forget about being the biggest fish in the pond, if you play bassoon you're often the only fish in the pond.  However, there was no bassoon in the marching band so in a couple of years I had to add another instrument to march with.  I liked staying low, so I added baritone sax.  A couple of years later, I wanted to add some brass so I could play in a drum and bugle corps, so I added baritone horn.  I definitely was adopting the jack of all trades and master of none approach to things.  I played in school bands straight through from sixth grade to the start of college.

At some point though, other demands on my time took over, and there was a period probably of about fifteen years when aside from singing along to the car radio, I really didn't let music into my life.  Music was always there beneath the surface though.  It became apparent enough to my wife that about ten years ago she bought me an electric bass along with a little practice amplifier.  She also, through a friend of ours, arranged for me to meet my music teacher.  He deserves his own post for certain and we'll get to that.

For now suffice it to say that I presented my share of challenges as a student.  In general I wasn't putting much effort into it.  I was really using my lesson time as a little break from my "grown up" time involved in my work.  To my teacher's credit though, he recognized what I needed out of music at that point and was willing to stick with me.

Recently in my lessons, I finally started really grasping some of the theoretical stuff we've been talking about for years and seeing how the theory actually applied in playing.  It's been really fun and its allowed me to take some important steps as a musician recently, not the least of which is returning to perform in public.  I've recently gotten involved with a band here in Las Vegas and we're starting to get out of the garage and into some places where folks can watch us. 

Without a doubt, the best part of this recent musical growth spurt I've had has been really discovering the joy involved in playing music.  Practice isn't a chore any more, it's a treat mostly because I've started to understand music in deeper ways, and there will be plenty of talk of that as we're going along as well.

Even though we'll talk about some technical music things from time to time, my goal is to write in a way where there is no need for any outside musical knowledge.  What I've found is that many of these things have applicability outside of music so don't worry if you don't have that kind of background.  Just let the music in and see where it takes you.

I've Got a Peaceful Easy Feeling

As I mentioned in my introductory post, my vision for this blog focuses on three areas; dispute resolution (Peace); Music; and the connection between them (the Space Between).  I thought it made sense to do a post for each of those elements talking about my background with them.  Peace has top billing, so let's start there.

I've been involved in dispute resolution my entire adult life.  My interest in becoming a lawyer started in high school, right about the time I realized I hated biology class and that any thoughts I may have had about medicine needed to be reexamined. I quickly became drawn to the law.

My thoughts were always on being a "courtroom lawyer" and though I didn't realize it at the time this was my entry into dispute resolution.  I was preparing myself to be an intellectual gladiator, ready to take up the cause of my client, to use my mental skills to draw out the flaws in the opposing position and to use my powers of persuasion to convince the decision makers of the rightness of my client's cause.

When I actually became a lawyer and started to do the things I had dreamed of, it was thrilling beyond belief.  I still remember the first time I ever questioned a witness in a court proceeding, over twenty years ago.  Interestingly, it was also my first lesson in how the reality of the legal process deviated from the ideal.  I had prepared the witness for his testimony, discussed the issues with him and figured out how to frame my questions so that his answers would support the arguments we were making, even trying out specific questions in critical areas.  I reported back to the lead lawyer that the witness was ready and would help our arguments.

When the proceedings actually began, the lead lawyer questioned most of the witnesses.  When we reached the point where my witness was testifying I began by leading him through the initial areas.  We approached the critical questions and I was feeling good.  We started to get into the real meat of his testimony and all of a sudden, he locked up on one of the critical questions.  After a couple of moments of the deer in the headlights look, he finally spit out his answer.  The only problem was, it was different from what we had discussed during our preparation.  He wasn't changing his story deliberately, he just had one of those human moments where there was a short circuit between brain and mouth.  I did my best to rehabilitate his testimony, but in the end, there was no bringing him back.  Needless to say, the results of the proceeding were not in my client's favor.

Without realizing it, I had just received my first lesson in why cases settle and often for reasons that have nothing to do with the merits of the positions involved.  Young lawyers quickly learn the differences between the idealized vision of the litigation process and the reality.

As I progressed through my legal career I learned through firsthand experience that most civil lawsuits get resolved without going to trial.  I gained experience with negotiating with opposing parties to reach compromise and just as important, I gained experience with counseling my clients on the risks involved in litigation and the benefits of negotiating a resolution.  At some point, after not being able to work out a solution directly, an opposing lawyer suggested we use a mediator.  As I worked more and more through my career I discovered that this was a highly effective means of getting cases resolved.  I learned that as long as all parties involved have a sincere desire to reach a settlement, the mediation process can resolve even the ugliest disputes.

As I gained more and more experience with the mediation process, I realized that it was a comfortable fit with my natural personality.  In essence, I learned (over a long long time) that I was a born mediator.  Now having finally and fully come to that realization I have begun to actively work towards incorporating that work into my career.  I've reached the point where this isn't a dream or a wish anymore, it is a plan that is actually being set in motion and that is a very exciting process.