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Mediocre, at best. That’s how Matt felt at intermission. He loved playing piano with the jazz trio, but these past weeks had been hard. Their drummer Chris was having marriage problems. Kyle the bass player had just lost his dad to cancer. Matt had been suffering from what his doctor said with arthritis. It was like they were losing themselves. Matt was questioning his career choice.
Still, they trudged on – back on stage for the last two sets. As the three huddled back stage considering coming back out for their usual encore, Matt felt a tug in his heart.
“Guys,” he said to them. “I know that we’ve been sort of off lately. But we’re family. We are a circle of love. Let’s go out there and love”.
As the lights dimmed and the audience settled back down, Matt, Kyle, and Chris took their places. This was the tune they always finished with. It allowed each to show off their talents with extended improvised solos. Click, click, click – Chris counted them in. Kyle picked it up with a riff, and Matt added a few cords. He only thought of loving them. All he kept thinking was how much he loved. How much he loved his friends, how much he loved the audience, and how much he loved jazz. He send his band mates a huge smile.
And it was magical. Musicians understand that when you’re on, no one is leasing; no one is following: You are just one. Somehow Matt knew where Chris was going; Kyle was able to follow. They each knew what the other was doing. Each one’s solo was longer and unique – like never before. It was like a dialogue, all-consuming and all-fulfilling. This was not what they’d rehearsed. It was better. They were each pouring into the other, without thinking of themselves. It was like time stood still. They were one.
“This is who I am,” Matt thought as he played and took in his band mates. “This is what it’s all about: Love. Love that makes us one”.