1,000 Days of Piano - Day 101: Cake

Tonight I baked a cake. I wanted a cake, so I decided to bake one. I felt fairly confident that, although I found no cake in my kitchen, I could put together some ingredients in a specific order in a specific way, put them in a pan in the oven, and the result would be cake. I did not lament my lack of cake. I held firmly to my intention and vision, with faith and confidence, that cake would appear in the pan as I rubbed said pan with shortening. I knew, as I blended the butter and sugar into a light and creamy mixture and added flour milk, eggs, and flavorings, that I would get a thick, airy batter. It was not cake, yet, but I remained convinced that it would be, if I turned it into the pan and baked it. In a delicious miracle of kitchen chemistry, it became cake. I let it cool, and then carefully tuned it onto a cooling rack, feeling like a magician.

That is how I feel about learning all seven books of the Suzuki repertoire. At the moment, I don’t have cake. I don’t even have batter. I have a recipe, and I’ve assembled the ingredients. I may have even begun to cream the butter and the sugar. The air smells rich and sweet. And I, despite the fact that I have no cake yet, still feel like a magician.