My mother is in the hospital.

My brother found her unconscious on the floor this morning. I'm now in the ER waiting for her to be transported to her room.

Two monitors down the hall are beeping.

The soft footfalls of nurses’ approach…then departure…cycle every few minutes.

My mom's occasionally exasperated breath, impatient because she doesn't want to be here, occasionally breaks through the noisy silence.

To have the presence of mind to still myself enough to hear all this is surprising, but not. There's nothing to do except wait, and once the “Oh my gosh!” transforms into “What’s going on?” which morphs into waiting, waiting and waiting some more, there's a level of hyperawareness that yields to inner stillness for me, where I observe everything and record it, without my active knowledge.

You don't realize how much of your training kicks in until something like this happens. My whole being is tuned in into pattern recognition, changes in tone and content with medical professionals, and the feeling of the overall vibe.

It took me a long time to allow myself to use all of my talents in all situations, not just in the classroom or on the stage or at the podium.

When we teach piano, I talk about these kinds of situations and how to use all our senses fully to be able to navigate difficult experiences. These kinds of discussions with our teachers who get how the math and science combine with the art to give you this sensibility create trust within yourself. You learn that you can use this to maneuver through difficulties.

The music is not in the piano. It's in you. You're using the piano to let it out, to express it.

We teach this.