Truth

Besides inheriting Ashkenazic genes associated with longevity, a hard-wired need to express myself musically, short stature, and a metabolism designed to keep my body alive in times of famine, I believe I have inherited a sense of respect for the truth. And the general adulteration of the truth that I hear (mostly from political people) distresses me to the core of my being.

As I young person I was often confused about what I really was thinking. I don't think that this is at all uncommon in young people, and many well-meaning young people are drawn down paths that do not reflect their sense of what is right or what is true. Sometimes they/we (we, because we have all been there) realize that we are not in a place we want to be as a result of a less-than-well-thought-out decision. Time teaches us to be more careful, if we are lucky.

Music really helps to identify truth. Intonation is true. Sound is true. Rhythm is true. Physical form strives for truth. The direction of a phrase can go in many ways, and each one can have a trajectory of truth. There is no "right" way to play a phrase, but there are many true ways to play a phrase. Playing a phrase the way you really want it to go involves identifying the way you don't want it to go. I get great pleasure on aiming for musical truth on a daily basis.

I love privacy when I'm practicing: when I am not aware of anybody listening, I listen much more deeply to where I am (in a phrase or in a note), where I am going, and where I have been.

I think of practicing as a reinforcing of whoever it is I am, and combining that with a search for what is true in music.

When writing music I love the search for what is true and what is right. And I am glad that I am able, at this point, after many years of building the skills to do so, to know what to keep and what to discard. The floor around my desk, piano bench, and music stand is littered (figuratively, of course) with discarded pitches, rhythms, and measures.

I never received praise when I was a child, so I never knew if I had any talent. I knew what my shortcomings were (and still are), but I like to believe that my parents believed that they were being true to me by not encouraging me the way other parents encouraged their children. Both of them were child prodigies with exceptional talents that their parents "encouraged" with serious purpose. Maybe they wanted to spare me the pressure they felt as children. Maybe they wanted to let me be a "normal kid," not knowing that I would be a miserable failure in the world of kid normalcy.

So now as a grown-up person with grandchildren, who is basically happy with what I have contributed to the world (so far), I feel that I have told the truth.

What is true is, however, different from what is certain. I don't believe that anybody can predict anything with certainty. I feel (though I am not certain) that my quest to know the difference will continue through the many decades ahead of me during my long Ashkenazic life.