The stuff of music is ephemeral.

While its composition can be a joy, a pressure builds in its creation.

Deeply embedded in a song’s roots is the essence of play. Sounds stir, the fingers dance, and a body resonates beyond itself.

But to guide sounds into form, we must nurture as an adult.

• How does it begin? transition? end?
• What do I hear? What do I revise?
• Who is its audience? How can they best be introduced?

Tensions of transition between child and parent within appears every time.

If we set play aside to build with deliberation, the moment’s flow will surely be lost. Certainly, we can never step in the same river twice.

Yet, to continue only in flow, we are left without structure, no vessel to carry its spirit beyond the moment.

Practice becomes an art of developing a trust in self, a trust that we can find some flow again, albeit born anew. Could these notes, rhythms, and silences between find some new home in an unknown future?

Without this trust, without this growing tendril of practice and risk, how could we ever willingly let go, our only other respite an exhaustion clawing to claim play away.

What difference is there between such creativity and our work at large?

– Kourosh

PS. Here’s a tune called “Where did the table go?”