“Trust me, Wilbur. People are very gullible. They’ll believe anything they see in print.” -  Charlotte’s Web

There are those who hate Christianity and then call their hatred an all-embracing love for all religions.

“In the long run men hit only what they aim at.” - Henry David Thoreau

I have not set many goals in the past, for a lot of reasons. One being that I have never believed I have the resources to accomplish anything too big. Another being I don’t think I could handle setting goals too high and then letting my bandmates and family down. I have padded my heart to embrace any outcome and be content with the results of past efforts, no matter the cost. But I don’t want the future to be held hostage by the past and if we don’t know where we are going, well then we might end up somewhere else.

I’ve always heard that goals in writing are dreams with deadlines and I regret not aiming higher sooner. We named our record “to the stars through difficulty” and so far it has been mostly difficulty. Brian said it today though, “instead of stars in our eyes we’ve had lead in our shoes.” We tend to be so painfully realistic we shoot down aspirations before they can be turned into goals; long before they can be turned into a plan of action. It’s like that movie where the guy aims low so he can meet the expectations and never be disappointed. To be frank, the last year I aimed low, and I am disappointed. To quote myself, I let myself off the hook. 

I am so afraid of making a list, for fear of mistaking it for a list of promises or hopeful wishes, that I have refrained from making any goals at all. I suppose long term goals keep us from getting frustrated by short term failures. It’s impossible to set out on a journey, even one drenched in faith, without a map to follow. So we printed a map tonight, a needle for our compass, if you will. From now on the compass knows only one point; its ideal. And I believe it will faithfully guide us there through the darkest nights and fiercest storms.

“Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?” - Robert Browning