The Boulder

Good things are on the roll. I've finished booking my trip this morning, and let me just say that I am basking in that most warming feeling, gratitude. I am so grateful for whatever amazing alignment of planets and molecular cosmic catalysts brought me all this goodness. January 3rd, I'll be off to Maui for two weeks. Then 17 days on Kauai, and then a month on the Big Island. Found 3 great places to stay - each with a kitchenette, balcony, private bath and high-speed internet. All near fantastic beaches, on the sunniest parts of the islands. You can hate me for a few moments, I won't mind. You can come visit.
Writing lots of music - or at least, conceiving of lots of music. In a phase of adoration/love for my piano, nodding off with my forehead on the music stand, fingers on the keys. Learning so much just from exploring. The best thing my best music teacher ever taught me was that the piano can teach me anything I need to know. After all these years it's still a complete mystery, still a total wonder. I wander around the keys, searchingly, and stumble into chords that startle me and surprise me. With 10 fingers on 88 keys, the pathways are so limitless, that it's frightening. So much music is written on the front lawn, inside the fence. Doesn't even look beyond the perimeter of the yard, let alone walk out into the forest. Hmm. Hrr. I wanna go out there! The forest is huge and humbling!
But making music, being a musician, maybe even trying to grow as a human being, is like pushing a boulder. You've got to just heave-ho to get it to go anywhere, and then once it's moving, it's a little easier. And every now and again you'll come to a downhill, maybe a long one, and you can just run alongside the boulder and whoop and holler. But when it finally rolls to a stop, you have to heave-ho once again. Sometimes you get to a hill - going UP. And then you lie down on the ground and gnash your teeth and beat your fists and maybe walk away from the damned thing. But you can't forget about it, and you keep coming back and trying to push it on your own. And one day you do it. Maybe it takes a bunch of friends to help you push it up the bloody hill, maybe you just get a surge of superman strength. But you do it, and then you get some nice flats again or a lovely downhill. It's always this way. The boulder doesn't get smaller or lighter. It's your companion for life, so you love it.

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