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There have been countless hours when I sit with my saxophone in my hands, as unsure fingers grasp each key in the tiresome effort to learn a new concert piece. At those times, all I do is stare despairingly at the long road ahead and – practice, practice, practice. The slow progression to a finished piece seems endless, and my only wish is that I could just play as naturally as I breathe. I wish the piece would just flow from my arms, to my hands, to my fingers, and then to the pearls on my keys, producing a fine sweet sound of pleasurable notes. But if I had a wish, a real wish, it would be that I could play without having to practice – that the notes would just seep into my head without me ever having to learn them. As the days pass, I get frustrated when my brain fails to communicate with my fingers. I curse the tedious exercises that my instructor puts me through. Wishing aside, however, determination is the