I was a "non-traditional" college student, graduating with a BA in music (in 1986) 8-1/2 years after I began. I wasn't looking at college as a ticket to a job. In fact, I knew full well otherwise, especially as a general music major (about as marketable a degree as basket-weaving). I went to college because the opportunity was there, and I was actually interested in learning (that's another story, for another time). I did it part time, while working as a piano teacher and gigging musician. The gigging musician phase of life began when I got my driver's licence, and soon became my primary activity. College was just one of the other things I worked in/around. There was no hurry, though I was glad when I finished. From that point I just kept going and continued to follow the paths I found. One of the paths lead me to a Music Therapy certification (MT-BC) in 1997. Another story for another time. Suffice to say, I didn't go in through the front door. I wasn't planning to do it. Never even thought about Music Therapy, actually, until I was recruited (based on work I was already doing). I was just going about my business, trying to do the best good I could. Then the whole thing grew organically and essentially presented itself to me. It's like following a dream that you don't know you're dreaming, because you're walking the path instead, one little step at a time. One day you discover that many small steps make a leap, and there you are. Or put another way; bloom where you're planted, then be attentive to what grows. Fast forward to today, and the latest example of this. 3 years after being recruited to help the Washington College Jazz Combo (because they didn't have a pianist at the time), and doing the best good I could, I was given the opportunity to join the faculty (as an adjunct "lecturer") and direct the group. I wasn't planning to do it. Never had any ambition to be college faculty. And certainly, no expectation, given I only have a bachelor's degree. But, by this point, I do have over 40 years of being in the trenches as a performing musician. And I suppose that means something. I also have a lifetime of dreaming the dreams I discover as I live them. A few years ago, I was a guest musician in a church, and one of the staff musicians was taken by the fact that I am a full time gigging musician. She said I was "living the dream". It was nice to hear at the time. Now I reflect on that again. Living the dream. Yes, I am. Perhaps now with a little better grasp of what that means. 

Back in college, as a student of Yoheved Kaplinsky, I was introduced to "rotation", or Talbman (named after it's originator Dorothy Talbman, with whom Dr. Kaplinsky studied directly) technique. I am not a perfect practitioner of the approach, but have held on to it's basic principles as foundational to my own physical prowess to express from the piano. At its core, it is about using (our own) weight and momentum as the catalyst for piano technique, as opposed to unnecessary muscle involvement. When it is first introduced to a student, they will often be asked to sit at the edge of the bench and let their arm hang limp alongside. The teacher may lift up the arm and, while positioning themselves to break the fall, ask the student to let their arm fall freely. This is met with varying levels of success. Occasionally you get a dead weight arm (the goal) the first time. More often, though, when the arm is "dropped", it moves very little, sometimes frozen stiffly in place. It is difficult to let go. Feels unnatural, or perhaps better, as a loss of control. To let go is to feel vulnerable, until you come to realize that it is not only safe (given the proper landing), it is, in fact, the most natural way to be. What a student is told, once they are willing to "fall" into the piano key, is to land on their fingertip, supported by the first finger joint, and "stand" on the note, as opposed to pushing the key down with the finger or arm muscles. It is, indeed, as effortless as (and analogous to) walking. What happens when you put one foot on front of the other? You don't stomp your foot down as you go (unless you are having a tantrum), rather you allow gravity to effortlessly pull your foot down to the ground, and then you stand on it, supported by your ankle joint. Generally, we are not taught how to walk, because it is natural. We will work through the phases (sitting, crawling ...) until we get to the place we are supposed to be. So, something organic and natural, like walking, can become a foundational model to other pursuits. And this certainly is so with regard to playing the piano, at least through the prism of rotation technique. 
But there seems to be a general lesson here as well, to work with the forces at play, and become harmonious with them. It folds into that bigger picture of getting out of our own way when expressing through music (or anything else). But back to, specifically, the technique of falling into a note, as opposed to pushing it down. The primary manner in which I keep myself connected to rotation technique, 4 decades after being introduced to it, is to maintain awareness of how it feels. Specifically, the feeling of falling, as opposed to the feeling of pushing. Of course, there is much more detail, actually quite exhaustive, that underlies this approach. And honestly, I have lost the mental connection with much of it. But I do remember what it means. And really, that's most of what I'll retain about anything. On a broader level, it is related to what I once heard in an interview with an opera singer (whose name, unfortunately, I don't remember) when he said something like "People go away from my performances and won't necessarily remember what I sang for them, but they will remember how it made them feel". And similar to getting out of our own way to become more harmonious with the forces around us - as would be walking as opposed to stomping, or falling into a note as opposed to forcibly pushing - my focus in playing piano is on that place, that feeling, if you will, where intuition informs thought; where my internal, or mental efforts become connected to the larger scheme of things, the forces around us, to become more harmonious with them. It's like that limp arm hanging alongside the bench. Once you learn to allow yourself to let go, you are in a position to begin to learn that letting go does not mean giving up, it means being connected. You aren't losing control, you are gaining freedom. And yes, I believe the application here is ultimately much broader than playing piano, or making music, or any other subject matter. But as this is the perch on which I sit, and the learning environment in which I live, this is the lens through which I see. And to feel, and learn to live in this connection, is a lead a blessed life indeed.     

I'm actually finding myself in the position of having an opinion about something to do with football. Being from the Philadelphia area, I might pay a bit of attention when something notable is going on with one of the Philly sports teams. It was the playoffs, and eventual Super Bowl win by the Eagles last year that first caught my interest. By the time I had any awareness of the circumstances, Nick Foles (the back up quarterback for Carson Wentz who was injured late in the season) was leading his team to a highly improbable world championship, earning the Super Bowl MVP award in the process. And he truly earned it. Seemingly, in every clutch situation, he delivered. He was in the zone. The team seemed as one with him. It was truly inspirational. Immediately as the season ended the buzz began about the starting quarterback situation the following year, and it was clear that Nick Foles had not won the job, even if he had won the Super Bowl. To say that he was gracious about it would be an understatement. Whenever I would hear him speak, he always centered around the theme: Don't think about tomorrow, don't think about yesterday, be in the moment. Most importantly, to this observation, this is how he conducts himself on the field. And the (even more) highly improbable events of the current football season have brought this into focus for me. With 3 weeks to go in the regular season, and with a 6-7 Eagles record, Carson Wentz goes down again. Enter Nick Foles, and the team wakes up to win the last 3 games of the season (which they weren't supposed to), sneaking in to the wild card playoff round. By now everyone is paying attention, as Nick Foles continues to perform, at seemingly every critical moment (or maybe just every moment. He tied the NFL record for consecutive completed passes - 25 - in the final game of the regular season). So now the Eagles, having won the wild card round in a heart stopping game, find themselves in the thick of the playoffs again. And everyone in the sports world is talking about Nick Foles. And here is where it really begins to hit home for me. The summary of all the chatter is the consensus (sort of) that Carson Wentz is the better quarterback, in terms of overall ability, and as such is secure in his starting status going forward. To which Nick Foles responds something like: "I love being part of the Eagles organization. I'm happy to be here no matter what. I'm not thinking about tomorrow, or yesterday, just in the moment". So we have the (accepting the argument) superior skills versus ability to completely, without distraction, be in the moment. The other week, when I heard a commentator reference that Carson Wentz can have a tendency to overthink (because more options are on the table for him, because of his abilities, or something like that) ... "ding"... yes. I am really identifying with Nick Foles at this point. And drawing inspiration. It is said that Nick Foles plays a game with more limited options because of his limited abilities (compared to Wentz). In my realm, I also play with limited options. I am not a comprehensively skilled pianist. There are things I do well, there are things I don't. And I know what these are on both sides, and construct my playbook accordingly. The idea of "playing within your box" has been on my radar screen for some time, as a critical element in performance. Know what you can do, know what you can't, live in the former. But add being in the moment, and what do you have? You have magic. You have authenticity. You have connection. You have uniqueness. When someone wants to assert (or challenge me) that I can do anything at the piano, I'll respond, "No, but there is one thing that I can do better than anyone else; be myself". But pondering all this allows me to better see that being myself is not simply disciplining within my skill sets. It is also surrendering these to the moment. And Nick Foles is showing everyone what is means to get (self) out of the way, and be in the moment. This is the magic. And everyone appreciates the magic. Until they start talking about it. And then they (or many of them) miss the point. Whatever happens this week (the Saints are an 8 point favorite on Sunday, and beat the Eagles 48-7 in the regular season), Nick Foles is being an example for all of us. Let us all be receptive to the deeper things.      
   

Another season, and year, has come to a close for me with American Cruise Lines. I began performing for them as a walk on entertainer in 2010, when they added Chestertown to one of their itineraries. A few years later they dropped Chestertown, but retained me, allowing me to drive to meet the ships at other ports - usually Cambridge, MD. About the same time, the company began expanding itineraries to other parts of the country, beginning with Alaska; diverting resources, and travelers, away from the East Coast. Other expansions followed, continuing to shrink my schedule and opportunities here. But thankfully, and most importantly, I still got the calls. The tide turned a bit for me this past year with the addition of a(nother) new ship, the American Constitution, and a new Revolutionary War history themed itinerary (although this last cruise was Christmas themed). This ship presented a bit of a challenge at first, as it can carry near to twice the passenger load of most of the older ships (180 as opposed to 100), losing that smaller living room feeling in the performance space. And it has a dance floor, which I learned requires potential redirection to maintain the "concert" environment. But this last cruise presented a new issue, a non-functioning sustain pedal. As it turned out, I had spent time earlier that day pondering on the significance of a positive attitude. Conveniently, that was on my mind, and I kept it there. Or, more accurately, I kept my mind clear and free from conscious thought of my circumstance, except for how I would overcome it. The end result was actually more positive than had the circumstance been "normal". I got a chance to put in action what I already knew; that attitude will trump circumstances, in the rock-paper-scissors game of things. So, Happy New Year! And happy attitude.   :)