The phoebe sits on her nest Hour after hour, Day after day, Waiting for life to burst out From under her warmth. Can I weave a nest of silence, weave it of listening, listening, listening, Layer upon layer? But one must first become small, Nothing but a presence, Attentive as a nesting bird, Proffering no slightest wish Toward anything that might happen or be given, Only the warm, faithful waiting, contained in one’s smallness. Beyond the question, the silence. Before the answer, the silence.
Music is the glue that connects many parallel universes that run through your life. I am amazed at how often you can find grace and simplicity in this complex world. Through your talent, perseverance, and faith in the power of music, you have blazed a path for aspiring musicians from all over the globe.
