My Voyage

Last night I couldn’t sleep, and my mind kept drifting toward Voyager 1. It’s strange how a spacecraft pushing almost a light-day from Earth can bring you right back to being thirteen. Voyager launched in 1977, the same year I was wrestling with doubts about whether I should keep playing the violin. I remember feeling pulled in different directions, unsure whether music was still meant for me.

My grandmother sensed all of that in the quiet way she always did. She invited me down to New York for a visit, and that evening became one of those rare moments that sets a whole life in motion. We had dinner at the Russian Tea Room, and afterwards she brought me to Carnegie Hall to hear the Vienna Philharmonic. Something about the combination of her presence, the glow of the city, and the sound of that orchestra steadied me. It pointed me forward.

Voyager heading into the unknown and a young kid deciding whether to keep the bow in his hand don’t seem connected at first glance, but they’ve always been linked in my memory. They share that feeling of stepping into something larger than yourself, even if you don’t fully understand it yet.

This new song, “My Voyage,” comes from that place. I already had the melody and chords ready, and the lyrics followed naturally once I let myself return to that night and what it meant. The song is about distance, yes, but also about guidance, and how a single act of kindness can stay with you for fifty years.

If you’d like to hear it, here’s the link:
https://adamsweet.bandcamp.com/track/my-voyage