There are no Bob Dylan albums on my shelf. They were replaced years ago with CDs; more of them in less space. The CDs sit idle now. All the music is loaded onto my computer. It's arranged in there neatly by album (should I say CD), by concert, by bootleg, by session, by unknown source. I can instantly sort it any way I wish. Five versions of this, four versions of that. A cornucopia of one man's art.

My favorite technique for listening now is the randomizer. I turn it on and heaven knows what will play. Acoustic Bob, electric Bob, young Bob, current Bob, loud Bob, soft Bob, sweet Bob, cynical Bob, I leave it up to some anonymous algorithm.

The beauty of this is accepting what I am given and seeing what arises in me. It's always surprising and unexpectedly welcome.

Will I pour over the next album, its sound, lyric, context, timing, and meaning? Sure. But it will then be added to the random mix. When a song plays, I will see what arises.