The only way to get good at one’s art is to do it over and over again. All that repetition calls for one to actually be in love with the process—not the result, the process. When in the midst of a serious session —either practicing or playing, or dancing, with others, the top of my head, actually it feels like the corpus callosum, is tingling. That means, to me, that my physical, emotional, and energetic are harmonizing together; ain’t that love? Also, for me, I’ve had to learn to forgive my own mistakes: I didn’t play that run right; I didn’t do that step cleanly; that line was not a perfect curve. I’ve learned to let that go. At some point in the production of art, it’s time to let it just be. Jim Robeson, the recording engineer on my first CD, “The Drummer’s Path,” taught me that. At some point, the creation must stand on its own. It will never be perfect —it’s human-made, and that goes for ourselves and our children, too.

By the same token, the determination to create art demonstrates our striving for perfection, for always being better—if only better at sharing and expressing whatever is driving us; that can be a “good” or “bad” thing. If one is an artist, one is, by my definition, optimistic, for the artist believes they can actually communicate something in our intangible world.

Forgiveness is Love in action. Art is communication, making tools to understand feelings. Understanding and accepting the feelings of another, and compassion towards them is Love. It is very, very simple. I have been infused by all my teachers and mentors, all those whose patience, love, perseverance, and wisdom allowed them to become masters and strivers in their arts. They are living masterpieces themselves. With head down and hands open—and sometimes with a very hard head, I have received that from them, couched in the vehicle of their art. To learn from someone—even oneself—one must be humble, willing, and strong.