Sometimes, I wish life were like music. No matter what instrument you hand me, no matter what kind of music is playing… I know where to go before I get there. I know what notes to play. I know how to find my niche and how to settle in cozily. I feel the right choices cascading out in front of me, I can hear them in my head and feel them in my fingers long before I ever reach that point in the song.

I wish life were like that. And sometimes it is, sometimes I follow that shining trail of decisions as easily as a 4th interval improvisation on an Irish tune in E dorian. Other times…. well it’s worse than playing a piano chord with your fist instead of your fingers.

But I try. I grab my instrument anyway and I try this combination of notes and that fill and those short cadenzas over there…

I think it’s related to honesty. Because the more I pay attention, the more I’m beginning to see that the times when the notes ‘click’ the best is when I’m not being anything other than Who and What I Am. I’m not trying to BE fancy, I’m not trying to impress. I’m just, Me.

A musician. A musician who wants to play the most beautiful and fulfilling song there is, even if it isn’t perfect.

A musician who, when the double-bar comes, can say “Yeah, I played good,” with the full satisfaction of enjoyment, love of the song, and the personal accomplishment of making it through that tricky section starting on bar 29…

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