Josie’s Song

Josie walks tentatively into the music studio. This is our first session together.

“Hi, Josie! I’m Maryliz. Come on over to the piano and sit with me, okay?”

Without a word, this slender nine-year-old girl walks over and slowly slides herself onto the bench.

“This bench can move up and down. Check it out,” I say to her.

She takes the handles on either side of the bench and turns them in one direction. The bench rises. Her petite body slowly ascends.

“Wow,” she whispers under her breath, as she begins to make sense of her surroundings.

“Let’s make up a song,” I suggest. “If you place your fingers like this on the black keys, I’ll play on these black keys on the other side of you.” She takes in the landscape I’ve described. “Ready?” She nods.

I begin with a steady rhythm. She places one finger on a single key. Her eyes are as big as saucers. She proceeds with another key, and another finger. She doesn’t rush. And yet she doesn’t hesitate. Another key. Another finger. A slow build. Until she is playing with all ten digits, her body swaying with the gentle rhythm. She is navigating the territory of improvisation in her own style, following a sound, experimenting, engaging, discovering, and creating a well-structured piece. The music is as beautiful as the opportunity to bear witness.

In those few moments, Josie taught me about pacing. If I ever get out in front of myself, I return to this piece, her improvisation. I am reminded to honor my own pace and to follow the rhythm and flow of what is naturally emerging.

This is one of Josie’s many improvisations that I recorded, arranged and performed with my colleague and friend, cellist Ari Barnes.

Find this composition on Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube, and other music platforms.

Clementine’s Song

Clementine came to my studio when she was only eight years old. She and her mother often held hands and kissed good-bye, then Clementine would quietly enter, whisper hello, and sit down on the piano bench.

She was one of those students who I never “taught.” I might have guided her, but her natural ability with music allowed quick learning, the easy interpretation of pieces, and improvisations that originated in her fertile imagination. When she improvised, I could always hear her signature sound. This sound matched the way her entire body emoted. She looked like a waving palm tree in the warm breeze of a tropical climate. No effort. All flow. “Clementine's Song” incorporates a piece that she improvised when she was 10 years old. I recorded it and later morphed it through software, adding cello and my own piano playing. It became one piece in a larger show called Listening Between the Worlds. The show begins with this evocative question: How might your life have been different—once when you were somewhat older than young, struggling to fulfill what you thought ought to be done—if you had slowly walked away from the noise crowding in on you until you heard, from within yourself, a silence you had almost forgotten? As a child, Clementine lived in this world of timelessness where the imagination gives rise to new possibilities. I will be forever grateful to her for this reminder.