Once Upon a Winter Wonderland...

To be honest: it’s taxing.

This kind of work. The ‘ordinary magic’. Trekking through the snow, driving through the no-sky zones, from hospital to hospital, school to senior home, cafe to brewery. Loading, unloading. Loading, unloading.

It’s a very different kind of taxing from the grind of preparing for and performing big solo appearances, big competitions, big stages.

This work is not glorious. It’s small, and it takes immense effort, endurance, and resilience.

To be honest, as beautiful as it is, it can take a toll.

To be honest, the price and sacrifice seem a little silly at times.

Our technique suffers - playing on these keyboards, some barely audible, some spasmodic, causing both tears and laughter of exasperation. Our instruments suffer - in the extreme dryness, the extreme cold. The quality of our playing suffers. It can become so strange, so discouraging, to witness what we pride ourselves doing slip through the cracks - the performances becoming messier, less polished, the emotional and mental energy we have to give being squeezed to its last drop. Our bodies are sore, our attention and focus draw thin.

And - all this is not to dramatize the difficulties and praise ourselves for doing this self-sacrificing charity work. It’s an homage to my kind, inspiring colleagues who continue to choose. To choose to persevere. To laugh through the ridiculous challenges, to keep learning, adapt, find better ways of balancing our own values, goals, physical emotional limitations - and carry on.

What brings me to tears, are still the ordinary magics, tiny moments. Ingrained in my heart. That big Alberta sky, even when you can’t see it. It’s ‘ever changing moods’. The camaraderie of this Windwood family, my own family and their tireless support, welcoming us home after long exhausting impossible days with a table full of steaming hot food. The music, still brings me to tears. The smiles of every individual who might have never made their way to a concert hall. These seeds, necessary to plant, for all beings - at the beginning of life, or end of life, or anywhere in between. The stories that grow. The proof we get to feel in our bones, that through time and perseverance, this musical ecosystem is making some kind of meaning.

It’s not transactional, it’s not an equation. Let’s not think of it that way. How can you weigh - the laughter, the dance, the sharing of such joy - ‘so beautiful it’s devastating’.

In the midst of winter, there is such softness and warmth.

So - I still believe it’s worthwhile. And we make our realities by what we believe.

So - as always, thank you. And see you soon, Airdrie. Fam.

With love,

Skye.pianist