I am a cautious person. I always scope the situation and imagine the worst outcome. Spinning cookies in a totally empty parking lot is over the top for me. So how did I end up with a child who clocks his speed snowboarding at 73 mph, who imitates Evel Knievel on his motorcycle? Changing the pronouns in the poem Father’s Song by Gregory Orr,
Round and Round; bow and kiss
I try to teach him caution;
He tries to teach me risk.
I do take some risks.
I can get pretty risky when I’m playing the piano for a church prelude. I play by ear, moving from song to song, from key to key. I try to practice and map out a strategy beforehand.
I enjoy playing musical chiasms:
song a, song b, song c, song b, song a,
weaving their themes together. To my shame, because I can “get away” with not practicing, I find myself playing what comes into my head. (I believe worship is our highest priority and I want to give appropriate time for preparation.)
Occasionally as I’m playing and modulating into a different key, I suddenly realize that I’m in unfamiliar territory. There’s nothing to do but play it out and that’s the thrill of danger in my sheltered life. Some day I’ll have worked through my scales and chord progressions in every key so well that I won’t be fazed at playing in F# minor.
But I’m not taking up snowboarding anytime soon!