"That'll be me," I said to my friend when we walked past a pianist in the window of Stash Café in Old Montreal playing for patrons and passersby on Rue St. Paul.
That was July of 2003. I started August 15...
Yup. It took more than 11 years for my ass to reach that piano bench. Beneath my sheer bewilderment lies an arsenal of excuses rationalizing my actions, or lack thereof: education, travel, work, obligations, self-doubt, perfectionist, all-or-nothing thinking. But truthfully, only one factor stopped me from pursuing this goal, and it's what Marianne Williamson called Our Greatest Fear: the fear of our own light.
Music is the only thing I've ever truly cared about. It's the only activity that engages my full attention, the only thing I am certain I will do forever. In no other activity am I happier, more self-assured, more myself, than when playing music. Yet, it has consistently taken a backseat to nearly every endeavor I have pursued in the past decade. Strange how that happens.
I spent a lot of time sulking over how much time I've wasted, which only led me to waste even more time. Thankfully, I one day realized that the amount of time I have 'wasted' is of little importance, and that the effort I make today is what counts. And that day was August 15, 2014.