The Invisible House of Music

Everyday things morph into unexpected challenges if I don't pay attention... yet another cute little dragon grows into a monster as paperwork, address changes, tax returns trail in my wake.

When I was young, I ached for time to practise and study. Nothing has changed save the knowledge that whatever thought I hold in my mind will take root over time and grow into the thing that I imagined. So I must be careful with my thoughts as they are sometimes the only domain that I can command.

There is so much stuff that has to be done every day yet every little aspiration that lives between the chores can build momentum and exist, at first fleetingly and eventually as a tangible reality.

I have a bound book of lists that help me remember my goals. I work to catch my thoughts when I feel trapped by my duties and remember to laugh at myself. I bitch to my friends with no effort to be noble (this is very good). And, as I have mentioned before, my old father calls every day at 7:00 to report on his house building project and to remind me that the world lies before me every day, that vitality and pleasure in our craft is everything in this life. The rare day that can be dedicated entirely to music is always unforgettable. And that is precisely what happens during the recording hours or concert hours.

If I can touch on any part of my work as a bassoonist in the midst of the chores, then this adds some part of the invisible house of music... over time I know that I can add another room and invite people to visit. I practise late at night and make reeds early in the morning. There is always time for everything though sometimes, alas, not for boredom.