Amongst life’s many pleasures is lunch with friends, sometimes professional friends.  And sometimes one thing leads to another as it did last Friday.

Let me tell you first of a series of synchronicities that have taken place over time.  In 2008 I found myself sitting next to a man at a seminar.  He didn’t stay for the full duration but we spoke briefly and exchanged cards.  I had no idea at the time that this man, Len Williamson, would go on to become a trusted and valued friend.  Via Len I went on to meet some of his trusted friends, including Emma Chilvers (look out for mention of Emma in the coming days) and Cees Kramer.

Over time I have come to realise that Cees’ work with an organisation called Dialogos in many ways chimes with my own interest in aspects of communication.  On my recent trip to New York I finally bought William Isaacs’ book Dialogue and The Art of Thinking Together:  A Pioneering Approach To Communication in Business And In Life and I’m looking forward to reading it soon.  Meantime, I was curious about Cees’ invitation to an evening on Friday with long-time contributor in the field of leadership, Canadian Michael Jones.  I accepted the invitation gladly.

Let me confess that I had not heard of Michael Jones (at least, not of the Michael Jones in question!) until I received Cees’ invitation.  I was intrigued to hear of someone who combines his own particular style of piano playing with talking about leadership.  Listening to Michael speak on Friday evening I was also struck by his gift for telling stories and in this way revealing some of the deeper truths of our lives.

One story had particular resonance for me.  Michael, a pianist from a young age, nonetheless found himself working in the field of leadership.  Playing the piano had taken second place.  At a business event when the hotel he was staying in was quiet Michael spotted a piano and spent some time playing – a mix of classical repertoire and his own creations.  After a while he became aware of an elderly man emerging from the not-as-empty-as-he-thought lounge, shuffling slowly towards him.

The man asked Michael what he had been playing and Michael listed the names of the composers whose music he had played.  “No, not that – the other stuff”.  It became apparent to Michael that the old man was asking him about his own music.  The old man quizzed him about his own music and, learning that this was something Michael played only for his own pleasure, encouraged him to share it with a wider audience.  “If you don’t play your music”, he asked, “who else will?”  This question stands as an invitation to us all and implies another invitation, too:  to recognise the music in our lives that only we can play.  If you don’t play your music, who else will?

As I write I am enjoying the feelings of gratitude to Cees for extending an invitation to join him in the intimate setting of Bridewell Hall to enjoy Michael’s talking and playing.  I wonder, what does this brief glimpse of Michael’s work evoke for you?

And in case you’d like to find out about Michael’s work you can learn more at www.pianoscapes.com.