Music has always been more than just notes on a page for me—it’s been a way to connect, express, and reflect. From my earliest days at the piano, improvisation was a natural language, an intuitive form of storytelling that allowed me to express emotions beyond words. Over time, I realized that improvisation could also be a form of meditation, prayer, and spiritual connection, deepening my relationship with faith and music alike.
Early Improvisations and Playful Beginnings
I started playing piano just before I turned four years old, and from the beginning, improvisation was an essential part of my musical journey. Early on, I would improvise in different styles—sometimes to convince my parents, who couldn’t read music, that I was “practicing” when I was actually just making up music on the spot. I even managed to fool them a few times—when they’d say, “Learn this Mozart sonata and you can have that toy you really want,” I would sit at the piano, pretend to practice, and then call them in to hear me “play” the piece, while turning the pages of the sheet music. The truth? I was completely making it up off the top of my head. Looking back, I wish recording devices had been more available in the 1970s—it would be incredible to have recordings of those pieces today!
Liturgical Music and the Power of Sacred Improvisation
Years later, my journey with improvisation took on a deeper, more spiritual dimension. For eight years, I was the pianist for the Children’s Mass at St. Mel’s Church in Woodland Hills, CA, while my kids attended school there. During that time, I was immersed in the beauty of liturgical music, experiencing firsthand how melodies could elevate worship and create profound moments of connection for those gathered in prayer.
When I last committed to improvising each day of Lent in 2014, I found myself drawing inspiration from the liturgical songs we had played at church. Those melodies—some centuries old—became a foundation for spontaneous compositions that felt like conversations with the divine. There’s something uniquely powerful about taking a sacred theme and allowing it to unfold freely through improvisation. It becomes a living, breathing prayer—one that evolves in real time, shaped by emotion, reflection, and presence.
Improvisation as a Path to Reflection
Improvisation in a spiritual context is different from composing—it’s about letting go, allowing the music to emerge naturally rather than forcing it into structure. It mirrors prayer in that way—a dialogue rather than a monologue. Instead of dictating where the melody will go, I follow it, trusting in the moment. This approach has given me some of my most profound musical experiences, moments where I’ve felt truly aligned with something greater than myself.
This year, as I return to daily improvisations for Lent, I approach it with the same openness. Each piece is a reflection—not just of scripture or faith, but of where I am in that exact moment. Some will be contemplative, some uplifting, and some might even wrestle with tension. But that’s what makes them real.
A Living, Breathing Practice
Whether in a church, at a piano in my home, or on a concert stage, improvisation is a living practice—one that evolves, grows, and continues to reveal new depths. It’s a way of surrendering, of trusting the music to lead, and in that surrender, there is both peace and discovery.
To those who listen, I hope these pieces provide a space for your own reflection. And to those who play, I encourage you to explore improvisation as a practice—whether spiritually or creatively. Let go of the need to be perfect, and instead, embrace the moment. You may be surprised at what you find.
This post is part of my Lenten musical journey, where I create an improvisation each day based on scripture and personal reflection. Follow along for more, and feel free to share your own thoughts on how music connects with your faith and inner life.
