Run, Katie, Run!

A bird doesn’t choose which notes to sing.

An ocean doesn’t know how loudly it roars.

Why, then, do humans try so hard

We want to be masters

We want to be great

But the path we take

Is full of fruitless study,

Yet we are just like the roaring ocean,

And the birds that sing.

How can you say music is hard,

When you marvel at such simple things?

God is the one who composed it all--

The great creator of the earth.

He is the master of the big and the small,

And only in Him do we find our true worth.

God is with us all the time,

I am his and He is mine.

Each breath I take is the divine,

Music is to connect with God above,

It tells the story of His love.

If we believe that we are Heaven-sent

God is within us, in charge of it all

But we have the tendency to fall.

We tighten our muscles,

Rile up our brains.

This leads to frustration,

Yoga can help me to relax,

But my posture changes when I pick up my axe.

I need to keep it cool and free

If you want your music to resound,

Let your feet sink into the ground,

Don’t feel like you need to pound,

Relax into the self you’ve found,

The music you want is all around.

Wasting minutes, wasting days,

Locked away in a practice room,

Trying to force what should come with grace,

Letting frustrations descend into gloom.

So in your practice, take it slow.

Immerse yourself in every measure.

Don’t relent until it flows,

Just breathe.

But what if I suck?

Just breathe.

I think I’ve run out of luck.

Just breathe.

I sounded so bad before…

Just Relax!

With thinking like that, you have everything to lose.

The music will move you,

If you choose to stand still.

Your music will lift you,

If you trust that it will.

Don’t run from your talent,

Don’t put it up on the shelf.

Your music will love you,

Kenny Werner’s voice speaks in my ear,

And helps put my tired room-mate to sleep.

His words are nice and his imagery rich,

How is one to meditate and relax,

Sinking deeply into her own simple space,

When there’s a stranger babbling into her ear?

But now, equipped with the sound of his voice,

I can use his concepts, but without the CD.

I can choose to have his words in my brain,

These concepts are easy to say to myself,

And endlessly important in my playing,

But when I chant these mantras

And then go from week to week,

Slipping.

I feel my time slipping away.

I’m losing my grip on all that I had.

Daunted.

I watch my practice hours dwindle,

Try to send them in without feeling bad.

Dripping.

Music drips out of my horn, falls on the floor,

Unexcited by the effort with which I’m striving.

I want so badly for my sound to soar,

I need to relax, I need to breathe.

My journey here is just beginning.

I’m moving faster than I realize,

But it won’t help if my head keeps spinning.

These things can’t be fixed in hours or weeks,

I remind myself with the passing days

The time that I do spend

Does quite well to mend

I can begin to fix the little things.

One measure mastered is better than ten etudes worked up.

I slowly put more time on the clock.

Deliberation is my weapon

And the UNI trumpet studio is my flock.

We help each other. We know the curse

Of trying so hard to measure up.

Without my friends, this book would be good,

Now.

Armed with my mantras,

Surrounded by friends,

I embark on the adventure of trial and romance.

The music is in me.

It’s placed there by God.

My only job

Is just to dance.