Sunday, January 20, 2013

Nothing That (fill in blank) Can't Cure

Sun Sandwich, The Marsh, Jan 2013

I have been playing a lot of piano lately. A couple of performances coming up, and nothing like the threat of people staring at you expectantly to get your behind on the piano bench to prepare. Piano used to be my Thing. Somewhere along the way in life I decided it wasn't anymore and that being a doctor would be less hassle and more likely to allow life balance than being a concert pianist. No, I never used drugs and yes, I now see the flaw in that early 20's year-old logic. Even so, I still like to play sometimes and the same phenomenon occurs as did when I was hacking at the ivories 8 hours per day in the basement practice room in what was more or less the campus bomb shelter (as well as music school) of my alma mater: when in the thick of hard work on a piece of music, everything falls apart right before it gels.

Things Fall Apart. It is even required reading for most high schoolers. Construction, deconstruction. Ambition, the downfall of society. All I know is ambition and Chopin do not mix, and the only way to tap into the fluidity and romance is to completely let go. Pretend that you aren't swept away by the emotion, even though you are. Act cool. Walk away then come back and try again. This is starting to sound eerily similar to good advice for parenting teenagers.

2013 is well on its way and I still can't tell up from down. I expected more clarity. But everyone, from my family right on up to the nation and the world seems discombobulated. Even my golden doodle, currently relegated to the Victorian Cone, finds herself running into walls and just looks at me, bewildered. She is super grateful when you pet her though, especially right behind the ears. She just melts when you do that.

Which gets me to the point. Though in my profession cure is rare, in life, you don't usually have to look that hard to find a cure for what ails you or your fellow creature. Yesterday, I ran a 10K and didn't feel all that hot. Was leading, but was passed right at the end by someone half my age. My own fault, as I sort of gave up for all of mile 4. Then I scolded myself and picked it up for the last 2.2, but it was too late then. Cure? After my morning coffee settles, I'm going for a long run. Walk away, then come back and try again.

Other recent cures:
Hearing Beyonce singing THIS in my head while sitting in a meeting with a bunch of men in suits who believe healthcare should be a for profit business. And who are threatened by my leadership and vision.

Playing Chopin while my 3 children sit in the living room in front of the fire doing whatever they are doing, probably oblivious to Chopin, but there nonetheless.

Basic kindness.

The laugh of my little Dragon.

Chocolate milk.

The NYT crossword puzzle.

A slow walk in the woods with good old Buster.

A Sun Sandwich. Look at the picture: Can you tell up from down?
And since we effectively live on a ball, what does that mean anyway?

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