Kissing the Joy

 

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise. 

-       William Blake

 

Let’s be honest. When the dust of the good fairy lands on our head and the world is sparkling brighter than usual, don’t we all wish we could put Tinkerbell in a cage and demand a repeat performance whenever we need it? Yet Grace almost always comes to us a surprise, an unexpected blessing, a call from the other world that is not on our Google calendar nor can it ever be. All we can do is the necessary work to invite her in, keep the house of our particular craft in good order, cleaning, dusting, repairing, setting the table and cooking the food with the tantalizing aromas that might do the trick. But no guarantee that any of it will work. 

 

For 67 years now I have been playing the piano and have no illusions about making a mark in that field. The competition is too fierce, my talent too small, the number of hours put in somewhat impressive but well below the numbers of someone like Charlie Parker, John Coltrane or Yuja Wang. But some days— like today— the fingers fly freely over the 88-key playground and seem to always land in the right place without effort. Those locked-on-the-page notes of Bach, Chopin, Debussy suddenly are released into the air, each one in its proper place. Likewise the invitations of tunes by Irving Berlin, Bill Evans, Rodgers and Hart and countless more are easily answered and the freedom to interpret, extend, dig out their essence finding its mark. 

 

What inspired all this? Partly just listening to select Chick Corea recordings—his duets with Hiromi, with Gary Burton, with Herbie Hancock. Somehow those notes in the air find their way to my fingers like Tinkerbell’s fairy dust. I happily accept it, but know that I can’t repeat it tomorrow or depend on it. But isn’t it extraordinary the way a good piece of music or poem or a painting can release the best of us? Instead of our trauma being triggered, our true nature and tremendous possibility flies out of its secret chamber where it hides. 

 

I actually have a few piano trio performances lined up in September, so this is good news. But again, nothing I can count on. It just helps to remember that it’s possible. For now, I’m content to kiss the joy as it flies.

 

Mwah, mwah.