Lyrics to Bill's latest song:

What good am I to You? 
An empty vessel for Your Spirit
Make me holy, keep me true
So that my life will honor you.

I want You to use me
The things You do confuse me
You love me when I'm broken
When not a word is spoken

I must live in Your power
Each day and every hour
Without you I am weak
Without the strength to speak

What good am I to You?
An empty vessel for Your Spirit
Make me holy, keep me true
So that my life will honor you.

My sins... They overwhelm me.
Your Spirit must indwell me
I take my heavy burdens
And I lay them at your feet.

Makes an amazing song... 

Photo at dusk in Spearfish Canyon

11x14 oil painting of snowy sunset
entitled "Crossing Paths"
 

Many people desire to play the role of victim.  I think more often than not it is because they want to seem innocent of any wrongdoing, and if they are a victim then they can put others into the role of victimizers.  It's almost childish.  Like..."No, I'M the victim,  YOU'RE the villian"  they argue back and forth over the role of innocent victim.  As adults we must learn to own our part in the demise of any relationship we are part of.   Realistically, it is rare to find an innocent victim and a purly malevolent villian in any scenario, but we regularly assign those roles without question from the outside looking in.  I don't mean that we should make excuses for someone who is cruel and hateful, but we rarely know the whole truth in most cases, and only God can see the heart and soul of a man, thus He is the only One qualified to make a judgement call on who's to blame for what. 

I seem to be more of a songwriter/recording artist these days than a visual artist, although I will always be a visual artist.  It is not only how I identify myself, it is also an irresistible activity for me.  I have spent the past 6 months at least just moving my stuff and waiting for my studio to be built so that I can move my stuff... and then trying to sort it all out and put it into a smaller space.  I can only write music for now, and keep sorting through my stuff.  Stuff begins to own you, they say.  Now I see it.  As a child I didn't have stuff.  Now I have too much.