There’s something about November that nudges you to slow down just enough to hear your own footsteps again. Maybe it’s the way the air cools and the days tuck in earlier, or maybe it’s the familiar whisper of Thanksgiving reminding us that gratitude isn’t just a holiday—it’s a practice. Whatever it is, I’ve felt a shift this month. A positive one. A long-overdue realignment with the pieces of myself I left scattered across different seasons of my life.
One of those pieces has been music—specifically, the raw, childlike wonder of discovering sound for the first time. Lately, I’ve been reconnecting with that younger version of me, the kid who would sit for hours poking at keyboards and imagining whole worlds behind simple melodies. That spark came roaring back when I picked up a drum machine I can play with my feet. It’s such a small thing, but somehow it unlocked a flood of creativity I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
That creative energy carried me into something deeply meaningful this month: a benefit show for Keara Miltch. She’s a fellow musician who endured the unimaginable—losing her hands and feet after a life-saving surgery. The show was full of love, resilience, and hope. Getting the chance to help raise funds to bring music back into her life reminded me why community matters. Why music matters. Why showing up matters.
And speaking of rediscovering joy, I finally found a modern Casio keyboard that echoes the one I cherished in middle school. This thing is a dream—16-track recorder, over 800 sounds, 200 rhythms, a built-in DSP editor, and a full MIDI sequencer. It feels like someone handed me a spaceship and said, “Go make something beautiful.” I can’t put it down. Every time I sit with it, that younger me smiles.
Life at home has been sweet, too. Norris—my silly, loyal, life-changing guide dog—turns four on December 2nd. I’m already planning a chicken-and-rice dinner worthy of the gentleman he is. He has no idea, of course. He’ll just wiggle and dance like he always does, and I’ll probably laugh harder than I should.
Creatively, I’ve started working on my next album, The Real Me. It’s shaping up to be a two-volume project with more than forty tracks. Big, emotional, experimental, honest. I’m thinking 2027 for completion, but in the meantime, it’s becoming a living scrapbook of everything I’ve walked through these past few years.
And somewhere amid all of this, learning Spanish has become this quiet, joyful companion to my days. Each new phrase brings me a step closer to my next trip to South America in 2026—to visit my partner, travel a bit, and reconnect with a part of the world that feels like both adventure and home.
As this season settles in, I’m reminded that change doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it hums. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it arrives right on time.
Affirmations for This Season of Change
I welcome growth the way November welcomes light—softly, steadily, and with gratitude.
I trust new beginnings, even the ones that come disguised as detours.
I am worthy of joy, of peace, and of the love that surrounds me.
As the seasons shift, I allow myself to shift too—gently, boldly, and with an open heart.
Tony Gebhard 