There are some mornings when I take a break from playing and think, "What a gift. This music is a gift from the gods."
Those are usually the days when the instrument is playing well, when there are no leaks, when notes comes out the way they're intended to.
And those are the days that reawaken us to the possibility that we and our instruments can be vehicles for the larger story.
This morning, I got in my car super early and did a little drive westward. At 6:45 am, the moon was massive and reflected the salmon of a recent sunrise in the ice-blue sky.
Perhaps the moon and my flute should talk. I think they've got a lot in common.