​This was a tricky year for me, I’ll be the first to admit; attacks of both the blues and the reds began with unprecedented frequency, then accelerated, in such heedless fashion as to imply a sense of vengeful purpose, to the point where the potential for full emotional meltdown became threateningly present on a daily basis, no matter what discipline, regime, or medication I was applying at the time.
 
On the upside, this has given me a great sense of empathy for the world in its current state. #topical
 
But seriously, it got to the point where I even began to feel a sense of envy for people whose moody “bad days” are as turbulent as it gets. Now, this is something I avoid doing at all costs: I’ve been on the receiving end of the “oh, it can’t be that bad for you” game, and the whole situation is both awful as well as fallacious. So I really hate that this is where my mind went at times this year, however, and unfortunately, it was probably the clearest, if least optimal, indicator of the nature and scope of obstacle that I was—that we were—facing. 

​Still, as the song goes (per image above): 
​

​I was told this year was to be a year both of and for innovation and new directions; for better or for worse both of these things would have to, and were going to, happen. I can vouch for this having been accurate (I think we all can!), in a year that appears to have tested the limits of our collective souls.
 
Some similar things can be said for the adventures of TeamPeh Enterprises in 2017. We’ve said hello and welcome not only to new life experiences, but new paradigms. We’ve said goodbye to an entire wing of our business, and have drastically altered, repurposed, and/or reconfigured several others. I personally have said goodbye to friends, in some cases entire groups, and have expressed tacit farewells to yet more family, in a continuing and thus far successful effort to release old relationships that are no longer working, and initiate, cultivate, or revive ones more aligned with who I am and what I value now. 

​Without further ado, here’s the summary: 

​The bulk of the operations of TeamPeh Enterprises for the past five years was taken up by TeamPeh Properties. This was a company involved in the purchase, sale, and leasing, as well as administration, of real estate. It was an exciting venture that we began in 2012, by purchasing a mixed-use property in Harwich Port, on Cape Cod. Another property on Cape was added soon after, and eventually the company grew to a burgeoning (for us, anyway!) four and a half properties: the mixed-use; a vacation rental and an office building condo, both on Cape; and an apartment building in Boston Metro—the half was a 50% interest we had in an another apartment building, also in Boston Metro.
 
Robert Kiyosaki would have been proud. And it was fun for us, in a way. We were learning a lot about real estate, about property management, in some cases even about law, specifically agreements. But after a few years the interest just wore off. Here’s some humble advice from us. A lot of people will tell you you have to go into real estate: You don’t. Go into real estate if you want to, if it really excites you. We have friends who are in the real estate game, and you can tell it suits them. They’re just really into it. And that’s awesome. But real estate is no panacea. It’s like anything else. If you like it, you will love doing it. If you’re not into it, well, like anything, there might still be reasons for checking it out, but in my humble opinion it’s really more important to know what it is you love to do and go and do that.
 
I’ve read the books. You know, the ones that say real estate will help you get rich for reasons a, b, c? It might. But it will also take up a LOT of your time. So, if you literally have no other passions or interests in life, then, sure, give it a whirl. Maybe that’s the dealio with all these “get rich quick” type authors: they’re not really interested in anything and all they want to do is play gorf. 

​Oh wait, I meant golf. Pity. 
​

​Anyway. All good. No harm no foul. For us, there is a LOT that we are passionate about, and I think I speak for the whole family when I say we might rather take our chances doing what really drives us and gets us going than, well, than just about anything else. So, after five years of walking this path, TeamPeh Properties is winding down. We’ve divested our interests from the Boston Metro area, and will likely be rationalizing all but one property on Cape (more to follow). Despite my little kvetch-fest there, parts of it were a lot of fun. I enjoyed learning various things, mostly on the subject of law, for example how to construct a lease agreement from scratch, random things that actually have had some applicability in other arenas (like I said, there are still reasons for trying this kind of stuff out, if it piques your curiosity). We’ve met some cool people as well, some of whom we continue to work with. So, much gratitude for all who came into contact with TeamPeh Properties; it has been an engaging and illuminative ride. 

​BlueDorian began the year with two goals: one, to solidify the AFO as an entity more integrated and aligned with the BlueDorian curriculum; and two, to take substantive steps to move the “Daughters of Time” line further to the forefront of its operations, both of which were achieved, though, as usual, not in the way that was at first predicted. The AFO’s uneasy relationship with the rest of BlueDorian stemmed from its reliance on me as both facilitator and frontperson, thus pulling a chief creative resource away from other areas, such as “Faerworld” or sound recording. This year, this was examined and reconfigured so that the AFO’s repertoire supported BlueDorian’s exhibit at the 2017 TeamPeh Expo (more to follow); rather than exclusively playing “AFO” material, it presented a varied selection, with tracks from other BlueDorian work in development, including: Open Mic; Continuity; and even Daughters of Time, with an original theme based on one of the story’s main characters. 

​​As for Daughters of Time, the illustration work planned this time last year was completed in full, with a round of immaculately drawn and rendered sketches of the four main characters: Gwen; Cameron; Roya; and Anneka, which were presented in a DoT featured exhibit at the TeamPeh Expo. The original designs were created by BlueDorian, and artwork was generated and rendered by the able hands of: the Limetown Studios; and independent artist Kurt Chang. Also presented was costume design work, again developed in-house at BlueDorian, with sketches rendered and executed by Laurie Bramhall. The artwork will be curated properly over the first quarter of this year, and final selections will be displayed on the BlueDorian website. 

​Artisanal began its year with an cosmetic restructuring, changing the name of its primary legal entity, the effect of which being to clarify its two major brands (Artisanal Being, and Artisanal Healing) as existing under one administrative roof: Artisanal Innovations. The summer season was a banner period for Artisanal Being (AB); featured events included: an artist trunk-show featuring MKC Photography; and the much anticipated and highly successful “Christmas in July” extravaganza, as well as their annual BlueDorian artist-in-residence partnership, and presence and collaborations with local businesses Cake & Islands and the Chatham Candy Manor, during the Harwich Port Summer Music Strolls. 
​

​Artisanal Being ends the year with a larger restructuring, moving its principal operations away from the Cape in order to focus more acutely on other areas of the business, including the online store, educational program development, and potential brick-and-mortar expansion on the mainland. The Harwich Port AB store may, pending analysis, may return next year, in limited fashion, but in its original location (hence keeping the one building.) ​

​By far the most unexpected development of 2017 was the purchase of what is tentatively being referred to as the “Haven III Farmstead,” a 57-acre “gentleman’s” farm and surrounded woodland, in Ashburnham, MA (a by-product, in part, of rationalizing our Boston Metro properties). The word “gentleman” here seems to mean that the farm was previously used for recreation, as opposed to actual farming activities. And while that particular source of value, as a kind of rural vacation guest house, is evident from first glance, well, as mentioned, we simply aren’t in the property game anymore, at least not right now. 
 
We saw ourselves heading farm-wards as early as the late-aughts, we just never knew how to really make it happen. As such, February was a leap-of-faith sort of month, wherein we found ourselves gaining a real admiration for people who keep horses. We came across the “H3F” on our second viewing adventure, and it more or less had us at hello, even though we were probably a little overwhelmed by the acreage, and filled with no small amount of trepidation over what we would do with such a space this extensive (we have a bit of a thing about responsible use; it’s not just about the having). Within about a day, however, we had ideas, ideas that have gone on a mental (and, at some point, probably by necessity, an actual) list of maybe-do’s. The idea for now is to get to know the place—for starters, perhaps, where the effing boundaries are—and learn some of what makes it tick and what it might need from a steward and responsible owner. 

Oh, and also, the dogs go literally apeshit when they are there. It’s hilarious. 

​But, just for kicks, here are some of the thoughts we’ve had. First, upon the northern hillock (yup, there’s a northern hillock), there are a mass of wild (heirloom, it’s suggested?) blueberry bushes. Yes, you heard me. There is, indeed, on this farm, a Blueberry Hill. We tested the blueberries from the bushes from this season’s harvest and they’re pretty decent, typically as per wild: small, and relatively strong flavored, though not too sweet. One thing we noticed is they keep their shape really well, which can be a good or bad thing depending on what the goal is; it will be interesting to see how, or if, they jam. Numbers were small; we might consider populating the entire hill with bushes, if we can get a interesting variety, to up the quantity of production. Either way, we’re likely looking at secondary application, as opposed to raw blueberry production. 

​Secondly, on the south pasture (uh huh) there is a dale with a large field. In this field there are a number of mixed grasses, but also, wild strawberries. Indeed, once again, you heard me. There is, on this farm, a collection of Strawberry Fields. We’re not thinking about anything here; just thought I’d mention :) Next to it, however, is a little apple orchard that’s been untended to since at least the Nixon administration. Thirteen trees (one per... original colony?) but with room for the same number again, this was a feature that really caught our eye. I have been a massive “apple” fan ever since I was told on good authority (Grover, from Sesame St.) that they would ward off unecessary medical visits. Since then, I have taken to cider (from what I have no idea), which I’m sure counteracts any benefits I derive from my once-daily regimen of the fruit unprocessed. Ah well. Still, even with a lot of help the crop was meager both in size and aesthetic. We are told by our apple-man (not to be confused by AFO’s Appleman) that the time-frame for getting these “not-a-crook” specimens back to any kind of shape could be three or so years. This sounds like a worthwhile process, so we’re committed to seeing how to mend the orchard, so to speak. Should be fun. ​

​Finally, a melange of different projects. North of the barn there is a plot of land with seemingly no purpose whatsover; one that appears as though it might do well supporting crops of some sort, of which our interest, in this case, might lie in herbs. For both AB and AH there is a call for such light farming, with in-house herbs creating the potential for a variety of different secondary applications, from infused oils, to soaps, to teas, to various tinctures, balms, and unguents (which is basically the same as a balm, I’ve just always wanted to use the word unguent in practice). Birch trees abound about the property. That’s all I am qualified to say on the subject, but I am so told that birch trees contain a veritable cornucopia of natural remedies, so check out the Artisanal Being and Healing websites, as I’m sure they will have more to say on the subject, if not now then in the future!

​So, indeed, a big year of moving forward, shifting around, and shaking up. One thing I haven’t mentioned, rather conspicuously I might add, is a project upon which our focus was trained for the better part of the year; in fact, it is what motivated us, determined much of our decision-making on which initiatives we would focus on, and finally, drove us forward as we redoubled our efforts to complete each one of them in necessary sequence from day one. I’m, of course, talking about the TeamPeh Expo. The reason I’m speaking scantily about this rather major happening is that there will be a comprehensive overview and report on the event, on the TeamPeh website next year. We are currently in the process of gathering all the materials generated (images, sound files, screencaps etc.) from the evening, and will be putting together something that represents fully the event that took place on November 18th. We’ll do the rounds on social media as well, so there’s be coverage, for anyone who’s interested in hearing more about TeamPeh’s inaugural expo event: watch this space! 

​What a circus, what a show, indeed.

​You know, with this new theory that aliens, if out there, might well be viewing from a distance, observing humanity as a gamekeeper would an animal in the wild (or, as has been suggested, a mollusk in the ocean!) I personally find myself experiencing the following: Firstly, I’m relieved. It’s easy for me to feel an inflated sense of responsibility, as though I “should” be doing something super important, at all times, and if I’m not, my life is abject failure. If I am an oyster in the ocean, then I’m somehow absolved on that, aren’t I? And yet, at the same time, I’m creating a pearl, a thing of beauty, singular beauty some might say. So, I am grateful for that notion. I’m just an oyster. I don’t have to invent a means to sustainable energy single-handedly in my lifetime. Instead, I can create my pearl, so I fully intend to do that. 

​Secondly, and speaking of empathy, there’s a sense of forgiveness. The image of us, with all our perceived grandeur and sense of achievement, as seven-point-six billion, or so, adorably tiny aquatic gastropods, crawling around, just trying to find enough to consume until we reproduce and then die, really gives a sense of context, and puts into perspective just how “big” any of us, including the latest misinformed, bloated political provocateur, is, whoever it happens to be at the time. Tiny snails. We’re just tiny snails. Or clams. Or squids. And we’re just trying to figure out how to be alive. I can no more judge a process as fundamental as that as I can the exploding stars and colliding galaxies that made up this world in the first place. 
​
​I can, however, create a life that's as beautiful an adventure as I can possibly envision.

I can, and will, create my pearl. 

Travel safe. Talk soon. -AF

Title Inspiration:
Song: WATERSHED (Saliers)
Artist: INDIGO GIRLS

                                    Enjoy! -AF

I started BlueDorian almost thirteen years ago. At present, my work has yet to truly capture the attention of even my own local community, let alone stand a chance with the zeitgeist. 
​

I have gone from being a young upstart in my mid-twenties,

to a struggling "responsible" adult in his early thirties,

to a man pushing forty with Reed Richards-style sides of grey.

I can think of a handful of people who would either brand me a failure (sadly, these include some of my family), or else who’d offer some sort of condolence for the fact that I haven’t “made it” yet, or (the implication would be) that I’m unlikely to make it at all. In fact, I chuckle as I write this, as I remember distinctly once being told by a musical “big wig” that it was “ok” that I was thirty three, because I “looked” “twenty three”, which was a more respectable age in the world of entertainment, and it was a boon that I could pull that off rather than actually appear my age. 

I remember at the time I sat quietly, as I tend to do, at least at first, when I’m in such a situation, listening to a person who has more experience than I do, holding my tongue no matter what I might be thinking, and being willing to do my best to really see their point of view; after all, a full cup never did any good to anyone wanting to learning anything. But I’ve had a few years to consider this attitude that I encountered, and I’ve come to the distinct conclusion that the thoughts I remember myself thinking at the time, but suppressing, were a relevant, if not appropriate, rejoinder to the situation I was experiencing: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for that backhanded compliment, and while I’m at it, I am thirty-three, and proudly so, so go eat a dick.

I’d call this person a douchebag, but it seems insulting to such a useful and medically beneficial device. 

I will thus have to reach back through time, into the recesses of my teenage mind (the ones that weren’t saturated with nudity) during my days in the United Kingdom—land of the origin of some of the greatest and most colorful (or is it colourful?) insults—to find the perfect term for this occasion; ah, yes, there it is: 

Recommendation to readers: DON'T BE A TOSSER. 

Note to self: SEE RECOMMENDATION TO READERS.
​

​I admit, though, there are times when I believe the tossers of the world, when I would look upon where I stand and call myself a failure. Why haven’t I built my house yet? Why am I having a hard time with this corner of the foundation? More practically, why did that artist bail on me, or that director? What could I have done better?
 
The reason I do this is precisely because I was directed, in my youth, that Adam not only “has” a problem, but “is” a problem. So I, very easily, internalize anything negative that might happen to BlueDorian or anything I do. Sadly, I’m sure I’m not the only one in the world who does this. 
 
My “friends” in the past (remember them?) would corroborate that:

• The problem with you, Adam, is you don’t have enough self-esteem...
• The problem with you, Adam, is you worry too much...
• The problem with you, Adam, is you take things too seriously...

 
If it weren’t for that, I bet you’d have won a <insert award here> by now, I mean, you’re so #talented! 

And I would think to myself: the problem with you, arsehole, is my foot has yet to make contact with your throat. 

​And also for the record, I’m not saying that there’s an inevitable correlation between “anything,” and “anything else,” if you get my drift (if you don’t, it really doesn’t matter; I’m not entirely sure I do either). What I AM saying is that I’ve experienced in too many friends and colleagues a strange obsession with “gatekeepers,” whether people, places, or organizations, and this obsession has, frankly, been kind of a dick to my personal choices, values, and interest in cultivating integrity and positive connectivity, in life, as well as through art and business. Whether or not I needed anything external to make me stand by my values and choices any more than I already have been: I certainly stand by them now. 

​I’m finishing up, I promise. The bottom line is, yeah, they’re probably right, these tossers, at least about some of these things. Because of my programming as child, I do indeed have incredibly low self esteem, crippling anxiety, and to boot, though unlikely related, I also live in a tenuous state where uncontrollable inner turmoil is just one trigger away, a state that, while treatable, will likely stick with me like luggage. 

What I acknowledge is that these things may never change.
 
What I also acknowledge is that these things are not failures. They are not problems.
 
I am not a problem.
 
And so aren’t you.
 
All of these are things I can find solutions for, or else find teams to help me find solutions for. I have low self-esteem? How does that manifest? Obviously not in expressing myself in blog form #circumlocutory, but perhaps in certain kinds of face-to-face negotiations or even just conversations. It’s known at this point that I would rather stick a fork in my eye than attend a formal social gathering. I would in fact probably rather eat raw suet than even have a one-on-one social conversation on any given occasion with anyone, that’s how anxious I feel before them and how drained I feel after (the exception is anything to do with work i.e. creative projects). So how do I deal? Well, create a team. That’s not easy to do, but there are people out there who revel in dialogue, conversation, sharing information in that way—I’m just not one of them. And the same things applies in all aspects and arenas. Find the people.
 
You are not the problem. Thinking that you are is.
​

​Whew. Alright, I’m done. And all this from “one day I went jogging.” As always, I mean what I say, and I believe this principle applies to others as much as to myself: any and all problems are temporary obstacles for which solutions are either available or somewhere out there, and so far as is implied to mean inherent, immutable, and inextricable, the problem is not you. ​

You know, for years ​I’ve rambled on and written these end-of-year sum ups; I’m still clueless as to whether anyone benefits from them. 

The truth is: the mission needs help. We--I--need help. I’ll dig into this a little more, probably, in a later blog, but just so you know it’s coming. I also meant what I said when I said I felt tired, frayed, jaded, by this decades-long process of assembling this organization and this mission from scratch—all the while seeing the idiocy of gatekeeper culture flourish and, in spectacular fashion, fall, while onlookers stood questioning why there wasn’t something different, something better even, that might exist in its stead. So consider this the preamble to a call to action. Without action, without participation, we, the mission, will likely stall. And if we do, quite frankly, I will probably have few choices available to me (in terms of what I can mentally stomach) than to return to Greenbow, AL, and settle down in Mama’s house: those lawns won’t mow themselves after all, y’know...
 
The mission needs help. And while I may feel that I am nearing the end of my rope, so much so at the close of this year that I am explicitly, and repeatedly, bringing it up, I’m not willing to throw in the towel just yet. BlueDorian just soft-launched its new website (#BDW3), and over the next quarter we’ll be working step-by-step to begin populating and curating its basic framework with awesome content in a way that feels both authentic and experientially satisfying. If you believe in this organization, if you believe in what we are doing: check in, visit, reach out, communicate with us—let’s explore how we can work together, to forward this mission, to create and develop conscious art that is as illuminating and empowering as it is entertaining, to participate in the transformation of the world into a more luminous, more enlivened place.
 
In time: light, and the magic will follow. For now, it’s just this:

Travel safe. Talk soon. -AF

I like to imagine, when for whatever reason over the holiday season I come upon a track by “Il Divo,” that, unlike the Armani-clad troop of caterwauling haircuts that presents itself to us (take that as you will), this band of quasi-operatic artistes-du-jour is actually a quartet of highly committed cosplayer-vocalists, dressed with impeccably deliberate specificity as principal characters from various Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals (with, perhaps, the singular exclusion of what inner circle-types commonly refer to as “J.C.S.,” lest the repertoire’s lyrics come to feel a bit self-gratifying), and putting on a command performance of “Christmas & Other Holiday Songs,” at, perhaps, the Royal Albert Hall, where an eager-hearted music-theater loving eight-year-old me is present, in full regalia (them) (also me, I suppose, probably). 

Honestly, the image, albeit one fabricated in the wispy, warped corridors of my John Dorian-like imagination, of--oh, I don't know, not that I've given too much thought to it--Rusty the Steam Train (deep cut); Che Guevara (obviously); some sort of Cat... let's  say, just to be topical: Bustopher Jones (the St. James St.—or, as he'd be known today, the “1%,” cat), and, of course, Monsieur le Phantom de l’Opera himself, is... is...

​Well, it’s an antidote, really, is what it is. 

Ah jk :) I don't mind those guys... But I tell you this, I’ve actually been on the development end of that sort of “packaged act”—on three separate occasions as it happens; this is something I’m probably not supposed to be particularly proud of, but whatever—anyway, so yeah, I’ve been at that table, and... well, let’s just say it’s a bit like “asparagus water” (#food.amazon.com): hard to take seriously, assuming you have the wherewithal to realize the whole thing is a bit of a ruse. 

Anyway, enough of this opening act. Welcome to adamfarouk.com’s 2017 blog season. (See what I did? I only ever seem to blog at the end of the year for some reason, so I’m calling it a “season”: Marketing. #marketing) 

​And now: 

​I started a run this summer. That is to say, "One day, I started jogging," not, "Over the summer I organized and sponsored an athletic event bringing awareness to an important cause," although, now that I mention it, that seems like a really good idea #AdamsSummerFunRun2018. Anyway, at some point along the way, I remember thinking to myself: I could keep going. I had just hit pace such that it gave enough back to me without seeming to sap any strength or endurance in any noticeable way #slowmo #vangelis. I figured it was illusion; of course I never fully tested it out, so who knows; had I followed through the world might now be graced with the presence of a "Malaysian Forrest Gump." (insert ANY joke about Malaysians here, seriously you don’t even have to try...) 

​But I eventually returned home and realized, yes, it was an illusion and now my shins hurt and I can’t get off the floor even though my dogs are threatening to slowly smother me with slobbery kisses, which are adorable, but seriously Terry I can’t breathe. 

Anyway, betwixt the puffs of salmon-kibble dog breath that were slowly fumigating my brain, I started to think about the last decade or so, especially as pertains to me as a musician, and to the organization of BlueDorian. And it dawned on me that there was a lot that wasn’t working. I was—I am—starting to get tired, frayed, jaded, and starting not to care anymore about this mission that has come to define me and all I do. Unlike the stride I had found on my jog, this ground was sucking the energy from me, reminding me of all the reasons I had been told I should quit my creative aspirations, for I would never amount to anything. #hopeless
 
And when I start believing these old voices, well let’s just say there are problems.   
 
Speaking of problems, that idea—that I would never amount to much, if anything at all—seems to have been a cornerstone of my family’s belief paradigm about me, that I offered (I use the past tense generously) little other than what might make them look good, improve their status, or validate them, usually with a strange combination of academics and appearances at the country club. I was never very good at the latter, and I was ok at the former but my heart lay in other, more fanciful areas: to me life wasn’t life if I was too far from either pen or piano.

​I was once told that my inability to “work with the system” was a problem i.e. a failing of mine. This one was not from family, rather some “friends” (I keep better company now) who themselves were achieving success in their various careers and endeavors, and saw what they understood to be my “failure” to do the same. So, of course, the problem with me was a... b... c. I simply needed to be better at “working with the system” and I would, like them, succeed.
 
I could list the psycho-spiritual reasons-to-dismiss, as well as the logical fallacies, that are involved in this sort of assumption-making, but the point of this writing is to acknowledge that, in this case, my “problem” wasn’t so much solvable through efforts to stop being myself as it was through being willing to understand what that meant (i.e. being yourself), as well as the consequences that might come with it. Being an outsider, as I’m sure both Susan Hinton and the Brat Pack could tell you, comes fraught with elements of peril, sometimes life-lasting ones. But it doesn’t mean that it’s the incorrect choice. 

...

​But I digress.
​
I do not accept that the fact that my work (the quality of which I firmly stand behind) has yet to receive much public attention has anything to do with any sort of failure, even though on my darker days, the thought does occur to me. Firstly, my choice to build from scratch a network of business models and affiliated companies that distributes and represents my work and my mission in a way that is authentic to who I am and what I believe, while a difficult endeavor, is one I will cherish until the day, should it come, I make like Forrest Gump and just stop running. 

​Secondly, my measure of success, I’m realizing, is at this point so far from accolade that I can barely remember how it felt to be flattered, let alone validated, by the prospect of any sort of external commendation. While I can appreciate there being benefits to such laurels and prizes and the like, such as exposure to the public of what might be an important message, the sheen brought on by the glamour of such pageantry is, to me, greatly diminished. What, I suppose, matters is the solving of the puzzle: the good science, if you will. How do I build a good house? One that is strong, one that emanates light into the world just by existing, and one that I’m happy with, that, when entered into, I feel at home, and filled with a sense of wellness. No one can judge that but me. That’s what’s important to me; that’s how I will feel I have succeeded.
 
Finally, and this I owe a lot to my ever-optimist wife, Elizabeth, who helps me, daily, shake off the bonds of the rigid and, I might hazard, tyrannical doctrines governing the families of my birth. If it is established that a problem is not a failure but a temporary obstacle, it must be recognized that the temporary obstacle is not you. It may be some thing you have yet to learn. It may be an aspect of yourself that challenges or undermines your efforts. But those are different from it being something fundamental about you. Rather, I wager that these temporary obstacles that we experience are always a collection of things that you can: i) solve; ii) create a methodology for solving; iii) or create of a good team of worthy people (key word: worthy) who will help you find solutions. 

Title Inspiration:
Song: WHY CAN'T THIS BE LOVE (Van Halen, Van Halen, Anthony, Hagar)
Artist: VAN HALEN

                                                                                                  Enjoy! -AF