Before I was one year old I was singing assorted little melodies and songs, including two verses of the ever popular "Happy Birthday". I am taking my mother's word for this, but she has no history of making up wild and unsubstantiated stories, so that's good enough for me. And I just kept singing. When I reached the fourth grade, the orchestra director for the entire school system in my town, Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, came into our classroom and personally played every string and wind instrument that has ever been invented since the beginning of time. Or so it seemed. Anyway, I knew right away that the cello was my instrument. It sang to me.
So here are some melodies, along with harmonies, in a collection of "my original" music. Actually, my cello, with help from my piano, sang them to me, sort of. I'm not sure where my cello heard them, but my sense is his -- that in the realm of music, we no more own the melodies and harmonies that we play or sing than we own the air that we breathe. I'm asked on occasion where I get the "inspiration" for the music. It's an interesting question, and the honest answer is that I don't know. To me it seems like it doesn't necessarily come from someplace or something, but it feels a lot more like it's part of the substance of life itself -- of who I am -- of who you are -- of what all of this is. And there is definitely a sense of profound wonder and blessing.