“How are you?” asks my walking companion, looking me straight in the eye for the truth.

“Well, anyone who answers ‘fine’ today must not be connected to our planet’s current events.”

Quiet. The soft beat of our feet is uneven and wary. A slip, a twist, a sudden soft hole. Change is now the norm. Easy to make a mistake if you’re not keeping up. Boots crunch an icy path by a frozen river - our unsteady steps will not fall into sync. It is an uncertain time.

All eyes and hearts have now turned to Europe, a few steps into the brink of war. Our conversation highlights what has most appalled us about the conflict between Russia and Ukraine. But the day is coldly calm, the sky pearly white, the bare poplars stand softly at attention like musical note stems. We switch to talking about the nature we see. And then to music, naturally.

The passionate music of both countries is part of my Canadian culture. I know so many people with Ukrainian or Russian lineage. The folk music, the vast symphonic library, the incredible virtuosic piano has sparkled and coaxed me through some long wintry teaching days. The quickly changing phrases often surprise, pick my spirits up, stir my feelings when I’m feeling bleh.

The folk songs are often about nature. Cranes, hens, the sun. Cranberry bush, oak tree, a wolf. And if they have political parallel or symbolism, I’m all for loving the music for its musicality first!

Much of the music springs from traditional dance. Overflowing melodies, crisp jumps or exuberant marches enunciate the telling of a profoundly dramatic history. Strength, agility, grace. The chromatic motifs and quick major to minor progressions jump out from the measures, often a challenge to play correctly. And while the character pieces are perfect for teaching articulation and dynamics, I also feel the need to feed my own soul with these sounds springing from another land, and share the freshness with my students.

Music seems uninterested in trying to chart the boundaries of a soul. But it does seem bent on visiting the heart, staying for awhile. Following the paths of the broken. Holding an audible mirror to reflect the experience of a person, of a people. Borders may change but music doesn’t forget its first nourishing notes.

(Image: Nathen, a Volya Ukrainian dancer)

Learning an instrument has become less intense on the homework - and more on the love of music. In the 2020s, I’m truly a dedicated music teacher of my times and your musical journey. I think of every new student as a fresh way to bond with music itself. I love musical history, geography, architecture, physics. Don’t know what I mean? I’ll tell you in our first lesson – adult or child!

Music is there without us. It’s spacetime and more. It has weight and weightlessness. As a piano pro and proven guide, I’ll walk you down the forested paths where Beethoven scribbled down phrases; the waterside where the waves run in and out in unmetered time; march you down the stands in We-Will- Rock-You common-time; or float you through the video game song that I dread – but you wonder if you can play!

It’s my job to serve music. What a privilege. Will you join me?