I am not going to lie: I am very, very stressed.

 I am not going to enumerate all the reasons why. Suffice it to be said: it feels like every weak link in my life is being tested to the max. Which brings me to think, sometimes – could I be the weak link?

I did an interview with the Bullet magazine back in New York this past December. The interviewer looked at me and said: 'You are so positive – in your music and in your writing. It is so refreshing. How can you be that way?'. I was speechless for a moment because I never think of myself as a, well positive person. Not in that Californian way we have come to associate with the word. Sure, it has rubbed off on me, in a wishful thinking sort of way.

And on a good day, yes, I can be very positive.

But that is not my default setting. It is not even my acquired setting. It is more of a goal, than reality, at best of times.

As I posted my lyrics for the title track from the upcoming record, someone on Facebook wrote: 'Wow, pretty heavy stuff' – or something to that effect.

But once you'll hear the song, you'll understand. The song itself sounds like one of the happiest songs I have ever written. For sure, I looked over the lyrics again, and realized that without the music to highlight the contrast, the lyrics are, indeed, not on the cheerful side. But this is a song about freedom. And faith.

And therein lies the paradox. Because although I am prone to mood swings and tend to fall quite frequently into the depressive cracks in the pavement of the Street I generally inhabit, I still look up. I am an optimist. I am a short term pessimist and a knee jerk scaredy-cat. But long term, I am an optimist.

This brings me to the point of this blog entry. Perhaps we are all made of different materials. Quite like in the Chinese folk paradigm, where you are assigned, at birth, an element – Water, Fire, Wood or Metal.

I am Wood. And I have to say it fits me quite well, as far as the description goes.

But what I am trying to say is this: perhaps when we suffer – when we are in pain – sometimes needlessly so, but it doesn't lessen the sting – some of us will emerge finer, sharper and stronger. Maybe not so shiny anymore, but certainly more capable to withstand the extreme temperatures, whatever they may be.

Others of us will be broken, dulled and cowed by life. You do know what I am speaking of. Some of us never recover. They walk through life and they speak of their scars at all times, whenever they can – as if speaking of them at length will make them fade. You often hear them say: 'This will never work, because…' They say 'Are you sure you want to try this, because you know… They also say 'You know I love you/believe in you, but…' 

Sometimes we say this to ourselves, too.

So right now – this year – I am guessing I will find out what I am really made of. Will I emerge stronger and better? Or – if am really made of Wood, will I burn away to a crisp?

In which case, I choose it to be a bonfire for all to remember.