Where does this go? No, don’t put the sweatshirt away with the pajamas, no the nuts do not go in the refrigerator. Frantically looking for the butter, finally I find it right where I first looked – and didn’t see it.
My firm ware is going through a major operating system reinstall. The spinning beachball is displayed large and in the very center of my screen and it is hard to concentrate.
The place inside my neural net that knows it is valuable and creative and educated expressed itself just now in all three of the mornings lessons. New insights, less apologizing about why I made suggestions, more willingness to follow hunches out on a limb through thin air and down a fruitful new avenue of investigation led to some breakthroughs for each student.
Wanda and I untied a very thorny knot inside Ravel’s Oiseaux Triste; Veronica and I found a way for her to comfortably play two voices in the right hand of her Bach fugue, and Paul and I discovered how to sense the radius and use it to unify the movements of the forearm. Exhilarating, but also calm and grounded.
The mother finch has continued building her nest behind the outdoor speaker, up against the support for the back door roof overhang. She is just as startled and annoyed with me every time I go in and out of the back door, in spite of the fact (fact? really? ) that I am now an internationally recognized pianist who will play in Carnegie Hall.
(Student’s names have been changed to protect the innocent.)
