This is going to be one fuck of a day to get through.

I don't quite know how I'm going to deal emotionally with everything going on inside my head. I also don't know how much of this I should be writing in this blog today, because I know a number of the other people in the orchestra are reading it. Perhaps it is best for them to come to their own conclusions about what this program is all about. Perhaps it is best for them to get a read on what I'm going through.

I don't know.

I do know that when I've talked, really talked with the other people who I am close to up here, they are often going through the same process inside. But each of us has their own path to discovery.

For me, the gravity of my insight gained as I was writing the last installment of this blog has been enormous. I played for about another hour after I finished writing, trying to express through my horn what I was feeling. I have no idea what it sounded like, but it was me.

I wondered if I dare play that way tonight. Actually the answer is obvious.

I got up at 9:00 and took a long walk in the woods, reflecting on the events of the last two weeks. As I've written a couple of times before, there are no coincidences at Banff. It was no fluke that Hugh asked me to be one of the soloists for the Love Supreme performance and that Chucho played Giant Steps for us yesterday. I'm not talking about knocking off Coltrane licks, or Trane's technical prowess, but something way deeper, the passion and raw emotion that made him one of the great artists of the twentieth century.

I was wandering deeper into the forest, off the trail, and eventually my spidey sense told me to turn around. I finally composed myself enough to go get my morning caffeine fix. As I approached the cafe, I immediately recognized Kent Sangster's son sitting a table outside. That pushed more buttons for me and I wished again that Clara and Cassandra were here with me. As I was about to go inside, Kent walked out and introduced me to his wife and son and daughter. Then he said that Chucho was inside. I caught sight of him as I spun around and fled. I'm pretty sure he was looking at me, but there was no way I could face him at that moment. I would have totally broken down on the spot, as it was I managed to get around the corner of the building before losing it in private.

I'm sure Chucho knows he can have this effect on people.

The challenge for me will be to be part of the program here for the next 24 hours and be totally involved in wringing the last drops of learning from this rare experience. It means walking around holding my head high even though I'm on the verge of losing it at any given moment.

This is what is means to me to be an Artist in Residence at the Banff Centre. At least that's what it says on my ID card.