A Harmony of Mind and Body

If you’ve been to one of my live shows you know that I’m a tall, gangly stork of a man. I can’t dance, I’m only marginally graceful. I’ve always been somewhat off-balance, awkward, and goofy since the air is a bit thinner up here where my head is.

There is one place, however, where I feel a harmony of mind and body. I “zone out” and get into the kind of headspace one reads about for ice skaters and athletes, maybe even zen meditation. While I may be tall enough to do the March Madness thing, my meditation is not basketball. I meditate in front of hundreds of people with a keyboard and some pedals.

When I’m playing a song onstage, it reminds me of my brief stint in martial arts; there is a defined, practiced form with a beginning and end. Assuming I’ve rehearsed (which, for some songs, is a big assumption), there is a clear path through this form, like a stone walkway through an arboretum. Every step is familiar, yet every session reveals a unique experience.

It is in this space that I feel like a warrior on a mountaintop or a bird circling overhead. This is where I am no longer an awkward geek that bumps his head into doorways. Practicing my kata on the black and whites transforms me, if only for the length of one song. (This may be why I tend to write 13-minute numbers like A Cautionary Tail.)

I don’t know what it takes to make you feel the same way, but chances are good you do. You’ve experienced that headspace before at some point in your life. Maybe you can’t make a career out of it like I have, but if I can offer one piece of advice in an email, find that stone path and walk it.

Daily, if possible.