The View from Here

Some afternoons, before I think about writing music, I simply look out the window.

Today the trees across the street are moving gently in the summer breeze, while my hands rest on the keyboard, waiting for the first note. It reminds me that music doesn't begin with sound. It begins with paying attention.

The leaves don't know they're inspiring a melody. They simply catch the light, move with the wind, and go on being themselves.

Perhaps that's why spending time in nature feels quietly spiritual to me. It asks nothing except that we notice.

Sometimes the next piece of music isn't hiding somewhere inside the piano.

Sometimes it's already there, just outside the window.