Reflections in the Wild
- Jul 28, 2019
- 2 min read
Last Sunday, I had one of those moments where everything I love seemed to come together at once. Music, nature, old connections, new connections, and that feeling of something unfolding in real time without needing to control it. It happened at Piano in the Park in San Francisco’s Botanical Garden, which is exactly what it sounds like—people gathering, pianos amidst colorful flowers, and Music just sort of finding her way into the air.
I wrote Reflections years ago in 2015, and it had always lived in a quieter, more personal space for me. It’s a song that’s deeply tied to my dad, to the experience of losing him, and to the way our relationship has continued to evolve even after he’s been gone so long. It’s not a song I wrote thinking about performing or sharing in a big way. It came from a place of trying to understand something that didn’t make sense yet and letting the feeling lead.
That day in the garden, I met Ron Gilcreast for the very first time. The only reason we were connected at all was because of Digital Droo, who had been helping me bring Reflections to life and felt that the song called for piano. Ron was his friend, and somehow that connection turned into the two of us standing next to each other at a piano, about to play a song together that we had never rehearsed.
There’s something kind of wild about that. No practice, no run-through, no plan beyond trusting that we could find it together. And we did. We really did! There was an audience that gathered around us, people who happened to be there and chose to stay, and we played Reflections all the way through like we had been doing it for years. It felt easy, connected, and completely alive in a way that’s hard to manufacture.
Droo was there too of course, recording the whole thing, which I’m so grateful for because it captured something I wouldn’t have been able to see from inside the moment. It wasn’t just about the performance. It was about the way everything lined up—the song, the setting, the people, the timing. It felt like the song had stepped out of its private space in my heart and found a place in the world.
Music in nature has always been one of my favorite things. There’s something about being outside, where nothing is controlled and everything is moving, that makes music feel more honest to me. Pair that with bringing people together who didn’t know each other before that moment and are suddenly thrust into creating something, and it becomes one of those experiences that reminds me why self-expression matters at all.
Reflections will always be a personal song for me, but that day pouring my heart into the breeze with a new friend gave it another layer. It showed me that something born from a deeply internal place can still connect outward in a real and immediate way. It doesn’t lose its meaning by being shared. If anything, it expands.
If you want to see that moment, Droo captured it, and I’m so glad he did. It’s one of those memories that still feels just as alive when I revisit it.
🎧 Listen to Reflections
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