The Storm

I had an overwhelming urge last night to play piano. This happens every once in a while because, after 12 years of study, it is in my bones. Usually I have heard a song on the radio that has heavy ivory elements, such as something by Cold Play, Muse, or Fiona Apple, but yesterday there was no instigating incident. I think that works in my favor, mostly because if I have heard another passionate musician I want to be equally passionate, equally talented, and, having not played for too long, I usually lack the precision that must precede gusto.

Last night, however, despite my unfamiliar hands and my dusty keys, I sat down and played. I ran into problems, referenced the sheet music, worked through any areas that were particularly difficult, and finally reached a place where I could play.

It was moving. It was cathartic. It reminded me of a deep creative passion that I once had in spades. I think that this decision, this photographic pursuit, has opened that vein once again. It has been a while since I faced something with the energy that comes with a passionate pursuit. I had that passion when I shot my abstract work for the Period Gallery with SPF. I had that passion at my last piano concert ever. I had that passion when I directed.

The blood is flowing, my friends. The pulse quickening, and the eyes of creative pursuit fluttering open again. I will shed this gray skin once and for all, I will emerge victorious, a phoenix from the ashes of Corporate America, spreading my vibrant and colorful wings into the glory that is my own passion. I will be a photographer.