He approaches and enters into conversation
with me. I do not cease my playing; but as I talk, I still keep my
mind free enough to observe the swaying boughs outside the window and
to enjoy the fragrance of the flowers which my friend has brought. The
musical phrases which drop from my fingers appear to regulate
themselves and to call for little conscious regard.
Yet if my friend should try to show me how mistaken I had been in the
past, attempting to manage consciously what should have been left to
nature, if he should eulogize my natural action now and contrast it
with my former awkwardness, he would plainly be in error. My present
naturalness is the result of long spiritual endeavor, and cannot be
had on cheaper terms; and the unconsciousness which is now noticeable
in me is not the same thing as that which was with me when I began to
play. It is true the incidental hardships connected with my first
attack on the piano have ceased. I find myself in possession of a new
and seemingly unconscious power. An automatic train of movements has
been constructed which I now direct as a whole, its parts no longer
requiring special volitional prompting. But I still direct it, only
that a larger unit has been constituted for consciousness to act upon.
The naturalness which thus becomes possible is accordingly of an
altogether new sort; and since the result is a completer expression of
conscious intention, it may as truly be called spiritual as natural.
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