Bio Part IV - The Artist of my Life

In the 7 years after college that I spent working a corporate job and working my art at night, my self-esteem was finally formed. I think it's never too late, but it does take some patience. It take time to see slow steady progress in things that one can be proud of. For me it was making money, saving a small nest egg, and advancing ever so slowing in music and art.  Little by little, joy was seeping into my days, and I had found a strength to trust again that I can accomplish my goals.

So I trusted it. I trusted this obvious desire I had to travel, and speak french and go on an adventure all by myself. I had earned myself some time off from work. I had saved enough to give myself some time away to think and take a breath.

One thing was clear, now was the time. I had the $ and had no reason to stay. And if I stayed much longer, well it would be too late. Life was giving me a last chance at  something I had wanted since I was 14. Nothing like a last chance to motivate me off my keester. 

Coincidentally, I had bought tickets to the last Phish show (music group - jam band that I had loved since college). It was in Vermont, and in looking into Plane tickets, Montreal was the closest, cheapest city to fly into.  That's how I ended up in Montreal. A friend talked extensively of the Jazz scene there. They spoke french.  It was a foreign country, but close to home. There was simply no reason not to go. and believe me, I searched for one. I was scared for sure. But life made it just too easy to resist.After staying in Montreal for a few days after the concert, I just knew I could do it. 

A year later, I drove through middle America, Hope Marie my doggie in the back, sick with a travel tummy, and my car jammed pack with art supplies, books I hadn't read, and my keyboard. I had never felt so free.

I arrived just in time for the Jazz festival, and I was flying high. 

Took a few weeks, and then the loneliness hit. I realized that having too much time can be a curse. I attacked my stack of books, visited Starbucks daily, and practiced my ass off on the keys. But still I needed more. I need a network of people and places to be. 

Music was again the answer. I started private lessons, and got to know some locals at some jazz bars in my neighborhood. The myth was true that the city was so alive with jazz. The music I was hearing at the dives around the corner, no cover, totally fresh and experimental. Man, I was in heaven. 

A miracle then happened that really set me on my current path. I was wandering the city, taking picture and exploring, when I saw a building I found to be the most beautiful building in the world. I was drawn to it. I ended up sitting for hours on it's graceful steps leading to... well it took a while for me to start to be curious about that. About what the building housed. But suddenly I realized that all the students around me, smoking their cigarettes, had instruments with them. I had landed at the steps of a music school. And I was so envious of these kids, I was so jealous of them. I had never realized how much I wanted to go to music school myself. How much I wished I had had the balls, the guts to follow my desire. Since I was 14 I had hid this desire from myself because it didn't fit into my idea of the world. But the desire was still there. So many years later, it never died.  It was only waiting. Waiting for me to be ready. And it hurt to face it, but it also brought the sweetest news ever... that it wasn't too late. I didn't know that day. In fact, it wasn't until my next private lesson that I realized I was being given yet another chance at yet another buried dream.

My teacher coincidentally brought up the idea of auditioning for a music workshop. An atelier where you play in a jazz ensemble under the guidance of a professor each week.  The auditions were in a week, and here was the clencher... it was in the building I had fallen in love with. McGill Conservatory.  

Though I had no confidence in myself that I could make it in,  the coincidence of it all made me realize I had to try. I couldn't not try. 

And well,  I did get in. And my new life began. 

How forgiving life is. How many second and third chances do we get? I was now given the chance to be one of those students I had been envious of. I spent the next 4 months playing jazz standards in that beautiful building with 4 other musicians. It was humbling, to see how much work i had ahead of me if I really wanted to play jazz. But I had the kindest teacher I've ever known. He believed in all of us, and gave his sunshine freely.  And I was encouraged. Life was telling me that life would help me, if only I'd dare to follow my heart's desires.

In reality, my life has passed so slowly, so many days, so many ups and downs. But to write about it here is so satisfying. To make it into a simple story. A plain arrow pointing so clearing to this moment as I write this.  After two years in a jazz school in Paris, about to start my 3rd, I've become accustomed to the pieces of my life falling into place. I'm a much better musician, and a much better french speaker but mostly I'm much better at trusting.  Trusting my desires have been the key to becoming the artist of my life.