Piano Dance

I’m looking sideways at the keys, and watching my fingers move by themselves. They are off on their own, and it’s my heart that I’m listening to. The wooden bench welcomes my weight with a creak. The stillness of the house enhances the notes. Slowly, focus. There is nothing for me to read. A single note, holding itself, ringing. Joined by another, a duo, in harmony. A perfect second, augmented third, reaching to a sixth. Contrasts and balance. Dissonance and correction. Triplets and quartets, counterpoint, climax.

It would not mean the same in any other form. Words can’t describe the dance of my fingers, if they could, there would be no point in playing. Self expression, merging into the moment, losing yourself. Mimesis. This is how we truly learn. And hearing my unconscious in such a way is quite refreshing.

The notes echo anxiety, with a flourish and correction. Regret, with descending minor chords. And opportunity, with major rising arpeggios. Unlearning strict patterns and playing something new. Everything taken together is beautiful in itself as this song unfolds. It is still unfolding, as different themes emerge, and each day builds on the melody from yesterday, but adds a new twist. This is creation.

My spice tea comforts, as the moon rises over the valley of lights. Yellow and white dots in the blackness, shimmering in the steam from my tea, and a cocker spaniel lays at my feet. The summer mountain air is chill, and my feet are bare. I am here, now. Smiling to myself in the night.