Today as I was walking along, I realised that the breakthrough moment of becoming a pianist and being brave to play the piano to other colleagues had actually started much earlier than I had identified.

It all started on the ballet retreat.

To sum up, I discovered a ballet retreat, signed up for it immediately, and then (after months of patient waiting) there I was, a total beginner, doing three hours of ballet every day for a week.  And the rest of the time, I drank tea and ate chocolate in bed, reading.  Oh, and I played the clunky piano I found in a room that was mostly uninhabited by other guests.

Somehow, I now realise, this mixture of rest, beauty, gentle movement, strong movement and tranquility allowed me to connect to some deeper part of my own feelings and real me.  Playing the piano for fun (and practice) during the retreat was completely different from playing it at home at the end of a tiring working day.  I was not on guard in any way; my defences were down.  And some hidden, ancient part of me took advantage of this temporary truce to peek right out and join the rest of me. And I think that that increase in substance is what is showing in the rest of my playing, increasing boldness and expression.

And perhaps its also showing up in other places, in my writing, in my work, in my friendships.  It’s really quite intriguing, and very joyful.

Perhaps we need to encounter tenderness to discover the courage to face our fears.