The Absence of Fear

Who would you be if you forgot to doubt yourself?

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The trumpet player can’t be more than 14. I can tell because his face is all sweet slopes and big eyes, uninterrupted by the arrival of bigger bones. There are seven of them on a stage designed by Frank Ghery and they play George Gershwin and Charlie Parker and Duke Ellington. The man in the seat next to me is a nationally recognized saxaphone player. He and I have been holding our faces in our hands and making those little grunting sounds you have to make when you’re witness to something astounding.

The song finishes and as the applause dies down, the trumpet player steps smiling into the microphone.

“This next piece was composed by me.”

He is the absence of fear.

I saw god over and over again last week. I don’t really like to say god anymore — …