There is no substitute for...

…early Chicago. I mean the musical group, not the midwestern metropolis. The soulfully delivered and contemplative lyrics layered with that glorious soundscape of horns, and unified into a whole with truly timeless production, comprise one of the finest popular music experiences of all time.
…the lapping waves at the sea’s edge. One of my earliest beach memories is of planting my feet and letting the water wash over them. I love the slight tickle of sand being pulled from under my feet as the water recedes. I still make it a point to do that, and consider it meditatively, at least once on every beach trip. Sometimes I stand there long enough for the action to bury my feet completely. I feel God there as profoundly as I ever feel Him anywhere.
…that first pull on a fresh cigarette in a relaxed environment. The mechanics of the smoke, the drug hitting your brain…aaaahhhh. Though it’s been seven years since I experienced this one, I still get the memory back quite viscerally when someone is smoking a suitable distance away. The relaxed environment is important. Smoking just for substance maintenance, such as a quick one at work, isn’t nearly the same thing. I told Lea that if I make it to 80, I’m starting back. Perhaps I will feel differently should that day come.

There is no substitute for…