This is The Year of Slow Living.

The mission is to pace myself and persevere.

February was just right — the perfect balance of work and rest.

We’ve enjoyed the rain this month, ideal for cozy evenings by the fire. Sass is disappointed we haven’t had any snow, but personally, I don’t miss it. Winter driving is no joke, especially over these northwest mountain passes! No snow or hail for me, thanks. But rain? Rain is life.

On show days I endeavor to practice effortless action. Easing into the morning calmly and mindfully, I do what is necessary, one thing at a time. Then I pack up the van and hit the road early, allowing plenty of stress-free travel time. I listen to music and enjoy the drive, remaining alert, taking breaks.

When I arrive early, the performance takes care of itself. Prepare, adapt, enjoy.

We gave our new program a “soft launch” this month on a couple of low pressure gigs, and the results were encouraging. This show is a crowd-pleaser, lively and entertaining, but isn’t overly demanding. The flashy flugel-heavy moments are balanced by opportunities to rest while we feature other members of the band.

These strategic breaks will prove especially important when we play consecutive shows, but I hope to avoid too many back-to-back engagements this year. So far the itinerary looks manageable. We have 81 confirmed gigs, and will accept no more than 100, so we can be selective as new opportunities arise.

On the RA front, I have good days and bad days. The biologic medications are definitely working, and I’m grateful for the functionality and mobility they help to make possible.

Some stiffness and soreness has returned, however, since I went off prednisone. Occasionally I have flares, random periods of pain and brain fog, and I often experience extreme fatigue the day after doing anything strenuous. Recovery days have become mandatory.

When I ask about remission, the rheumatologist reminds me that “this is a marathon, not a sprint.” I dig, but marathons are exhausting. Nevertheless, we move forward.

Today is the first day of March and the beginning of our busy spring season. 

Important to stay on top of things without becoming overwhelmed. 

Slow living is the key. Rise with the sun, tend my garden, play my role. 

Rest. Repeat.

This year I resolve to work smarter, not harder.

I plan to pace myself, take my time, and do things right.

I’ll talk less, walk more, and appreciate every moment.

1. Sustain my daily routine at home.

• Wake up before sunrise. Walk, stretch, make bed.
• Handle all business before noon; reserve afternoons for music.
• Practice flugelhorn long tones and rudiments. Prepare repertoire.
• Read, study, walk dogs, run errands, and finish chores before daily meal.
• On gig nights: allow extra time, drive carefully, arrive early, and read my book.
• On free nights: enjoy television, movies, music, and podcasts.
• Before bed, put the day up for review and plan tomorrow.
• Practice deep breathing and mindfulness meditation.
• Sleep soundly for six hours or more.

2. Make the most of every road trip.

• Service van and replenish supplies before every tour.
• Plan ahead. Research each day’s driving route, meal, and nature walk.
• Drive no more than six hours daily. Rest every two hours.
• Schedule one (but no more than two) engagements each day.
• Cut costs to increase margins. Overnight with Harvest Hosts when possible.
• Maintain personal hygiene and stick to a regular sleep schedule.
• Recharge devices and handle business each morning.
• Plan breaks along the way for visits with friends.

3. Prioritize mental well-being.

• Relax, smile, and laugh. Choose to be in a good mood.
• Limit exposure to negative people and influences.
• Watch no more than 30 minutes of daily news.
• Spend no more than 10 minutes on social media.
• Get outdoors. Appreciate nature. Play with dogs.
• Schedule seasonal solitude retreats and staycations. 
• Make time for real conversations with friends.
• Be of service. Offer help and follow through.
• Avoid complaining, even to myself.
• Stay humble, hopeful, and grateful.
• Memento mori. Amor fati.

4. Prioritize physical health.

• Enjoy food and drink in moderation.
• Limit consumption of caffeine and alcohol.
• Follow OMAD and Warrior Diet protocols.
• Visit the doctor and dentist regularly.

5. Maintain financial discipline.

• Boost contingency fund by 20%.
• Increase retirement savings by 10%.
• Pay off 100% of consumer debt.
• Protect home and credit rating.

6. Shut up and listen!

• Hold few opinions and express even fewer.
• Listen more. Speak less. Two ears, one mouth!
• Remain curious, interested, and open-minded. Become laconic.
• When possible, try to make the point in one sentence, without preamble.
• In conversation, pause to think, then choose words carefully before speaking.
• When performing, settle down. Be a supportive listener, not a cheerleader.
• Rather than reacting impulsively, respond thoughtfully.

Packed up all my cares and woes, said “farewell for now” to the K-zoo crew (I already miss you, Annabelle), and decamped for Monroe, Michigan (3 hours east). After a thoroughly enjoyable session with Mr. Swinkey’s jazz band, traveled another 5 hours northeast to Traverse City and the comfortingly familiar voice of Ed Ronco on Interlochen Public Radio. Excelsior!

Thoroughly enjoued presenting “Melodic Mastery” jazz improv workshops for Calvin University (Grand Rapids) and Kellogg College (Battle Creek). Warm thanks to professors Lisa Sung and Eric Campbell for hosting. Excelsior!

Woke up with the sun, grabbed an espresso from the bikini baristas, and hit the road for Seabeck, a mill town on Hood Canal.

Followed a beautifully maintained walking trail to a small waterfall. Not another human soul in sight.

Sketched an idea for vibraphone and double bass. Not what I’d planned, but could be something.

Today’s meal: steamed mussels with salad, bread, and wine. Almost as good as Bartje's!

Tonight’s lullaby: Clifford Brown with Strings.

Goodnight, Blue Moon.

Summer showers again last night as I slumbered, cozy and warm, under the covers. #vanlife

Woke up to the welcome aroma of freshly brewed coffee, then explored the forested hills around my campsite.

Nature walks really aren’t the same without the company of my canine companion (Scout stayed home this time), but at least I have the voice of Daddy Bill in my mind’s ear, narrating, identifying all the birds and plants! 

Played some long tones over the water at sunset. It’s good to get away and recharge. 

The writing plan, however, has been a bust so far — more “posing” than “composing,” sadly. 

Nothing but false starts, insincere, derivative melodies, and ostensibly original ideas that lead nowhere. 

Oh, well. Not giving up. Fail better tomorrow!

Today’s meal: mango salad with prawns and peanuts and a sensational rainbow roll. 

Tonight’s entertainment: a download of Blade Runner, an enduring favorite.

Even fired up the propane heater for a little extra warmth and atmosphere. 

I do love a rainy night.

Fell asleep to the comforting sound of gentle rain on the roof of the van. Pure bliss!

Enjoyed the morning java en route to a new encampment: the Stillaguamish River in Snohomish County. The wisdom of Matt Foley notwithstanding, I believe I’ll stay here awhile. This is living!

Walked around Lake Goodwin under stormy skies to work up an appetite, then visited the town of Stanwood to absolutely inhale a wood-fired pizza. So good.

Wrote no music at all today. Just listened to the rain. 

Read my book. Napped a lot.

My kind of day.

Woke up to smoky skies courtesy of the Canadian wildfires. 

Grabbed a coffee for the ferry and said goodbye, for now, to Whidbey Island.

Arrived on the peninsula just as a sudden cloudburst washed away the haze. Glorious!

Today’s meal, a frugal flugel favorite: teriyaki bento with sushi, sashimi, tempura, gyoza, and rice. Oishi!

Admired the sunflowers in Blueberry Park, then headed over to the pub gig with saxophonist Chris Bickley and his terrific band: Osama Afifi, Mark Ivester, and Brian Monroney, whose collection of guitar effects pedals delighted me.

After the show, in the mobile man cave, I finally listened to the SRJO recordings from our collaboration a few weeks ago. 

Forever grateful.

Be a man. Cowboy up! Don’t whine. Don’t complain. Just do what needs to be done.

Accomplish more with less effort. Use the tools of habit and ritual. Be resourceful.

Book extended tours: midwest (2023), western states (2024), east coast (2025).

Recommit to meal planning, black coffee, portion control, and nature walks.

Use fewer words. Say precisely what you mean and then stop talking.

Update duo, quintet, and big band repertoire. Prepare new sets.

Make time for long, meandering conversations with friends.

Maintain tourbus in excellent condition. Service regularly.

Update home security and emergency response plans.

Boost income from workshops by raising fees 20%.

Seek a mentor, a drinking buddy, and a side hustle.

Make the composition retreat an annual event.

Schedule a full week of rest in every season.

Stay humble. Stay hopeful. Stay grateful.

Take Sassy on a birthday vacation.

Selectively apply for grants.

Reduce debt by 10%.

Listen to the rain.

Learn to bowl.

Prepare.

Adapt.

Words fail to express how much we appreciate your generous support over the past year — the Year of CASCADIA — and the warm reception this project continues to receive from radio, retail, music journalists, and most of all, from friends like you. 

In the four months since its release, CASCADIA has been covered by dozens of online and print media publications internationally, garnering positive reviews from CD HotList, LA Jazz Scene, Earshot Jazz, Something Else, Jazz Views, Jazz Weekly, Midwest Record, and more.  

The album received 4-Stars from All About Jazz, spent over three months on the JazzWeek Top 100, is playing on radio stations all around the world, and was recently among the Origin Records releases submitted for Grammy Awards consideration. 

We’re grateful for all your lovely messages and social media comments about the album, too. But nothing compares to the thrill of performing live for folks who already know the songs because they’ve been listening to CASCADIA at home! 

Music brings us together and lifts our spirits. 

Thank you for lifting ours. 

We appreciate you! 

Dmitri

Finished the tour in Ashland, only a 375-mile drive from home, and the rain began to fall, as if on cue, just as I crossed into Oregon. 

The Old Siskiyou Barn is neither old nor a barn. It’s a hidden jewel of a recital hall, tucked into the canopied woods in the hills just south of Ashland. It boasts exemplary acoustics, a terrific piano, the earthy fragrance of ancient wood, and a metal roof that sings when it rains. It’s perfect. 

Darrell and I first performed here back when Starlight Cafe was released in 1998, and we’ve been fortunate to return many times over the years with our duo. 

This weekend we played a few favorites from the old repertoire, some new selections from our current recordings, and a brand new piece dedicated to the beautiful souls who created this place. Our friend Ed, concert producer and guitarist, joined us for a couple of songs including the premiere.

It occurs to me that I’ve worked this same circuit, up and down the left coast, for decades now, yet this trip felt different. Emotions are heightened. Everything carries a patina of significance. 

For one thing, audiences are just so delighted to finally be out of isolation, enthusiastic about returning to live events, and eager to connect with the performers. The pandemic is far from over, however, so that enthusiasm is tempered with an awkwardness about intimacy and proximity. Every post-concert meet-and-greet now has this oddly nervous “first date” energy. 

Also, there is a weird apocalyptic undertone to everything now. The steady drumbeat of negative news over the climate crisis, wildfires, disease, war, economic hardship, political extremism and more, is creating an atmosphere of fear that these may be the end times. I exaggerate, but only a little. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear doomsday language sprinkled into even the most mundane of verbal exchanges. People don’t feel safe anymore, all situations seem tenuous, so we’d better get serious and make sure whatever we’re doing matters. Admit it, you feel it too. 

But what really made this trip emotionally rewarding was all the reconnections with important people from my past.

Someone once said “the best mirror is an old friend.” Many of us have reached an age at which we’re reassessing the past and rethinking our place in the world. Some of us are even starting to question long held beliefs. There's nothing like a conversation with an old friend to help you find your way.

I really needed these reunions. It felt to me, on this tour, as if we were drawn together magnetically. Our conversations felt somehow predestined, or guided by the divine, if such a force exists. 
 

My heart is full.

Traveled 225 miles from Santa Cruz to Seaside to Sacramento. 

Deja Blue, the Monterey jazz + soulfood venue where my friend Leon Joyce (“The People’s Choice”) leads the house band, is my kind of place!

Convivial atmosphere, lots of laughter with friends old and new (you're a jewel, Barbara), and I’m not sure which was tastier, the music or the catfish! 

The RV park by the Steinbeck House in Salinas didn’t work out, so I traveled north and spent the night in Gilroy, California. 

If you haven’t been to Gilroy, you’re missing out. The very air you breathe carries the mouthwatering scent of the little farm town’s most famous crop! 

How could I resist? Before skipping town I hit one of the roadside tourist traps and tried a little garlic ice cream. 

It was delightful! But it would be even better with bacon. Don’t judge. 

Now back in Sac looking for fresh vegetables.

Said goodbye to Sunset Beach this morning and headed down to Monterey. 

Listening to NPR on the drive, I heard the news that Ramsey Lewis has died. 

It seems like we lose another hero every few days, but this one hits hard. 

30 years ago in May of ’84, Ramsey Lewis came to Interlochen Arts Academy for a performance with our studio orchestra. I was a senior in high school and he was the first “big name” jazz musician I’d ever met. 

He made a huge impression. I was blown away by his infectiously joyful performance and his extreme generosity toward me and the other student soloists.

It couldn’t have been very rewarding for him, sharing the stage with a bunch of teenage amateurs, but I can still see his thousand-watt smile, still hear his howls of approval, as we launched into “The ’In’ Crowd” and “Hang On Sloopy” — big Ramsey Lewis hits from the year we were all born! 

After the concert Mr. Lewis took the time to speak with each of us individually, encouraging us to pursue our dreams. Yes, he did. And we did. 

After that I began checking out his discography in the listening library, beginning with Upendo Ni Pamoja, the album recommended by my classmate Frayne Lewis, Ramsey’s son.

Later I discovered Mr. Lewis' collaborations with Maurice White and members of Earth, Wind & Fire, one of my all time favorite bands, and I was hooked. 

I suppose it’s no coincidence that tonight it will be my privilege to work with Leon Joyce, Jr., a longtime member of the Ramsey Lewis Trio.

Or that this weekend in Ashland, Oregon, Darrell Grant and I will play Mr. Lewis’ theme song, the spiritual “Wade In The Water” — a staple of our repertoire for 25 years.

Ramsey Lewis was far more than a Grammy-winning, chart-topping jazz and pop star. He was a true Gentleman of Jazz, the kind of Great Man that Kipling wrote about, who walked with kings but never lost the common touch. 

Mr. Lewis proved you can be both a serious artist and a crowd-pleasing entertainer. His worldwide reach and influence as a performer, educator, broadcaster, and recording artist, is profound, deep and lasting. 

He was called, he served, he counted. 

His legacy is secure.

Put another 481 on the odometer criss-crossing San Francisco, Alameda, San Mateo, and Marin counties, giving school workshops and private lessons, and visiting friends whenever possible. 

Last week was a little too busy for my taste, but I only have one commitment each day for the rest of the tour, and that’s how I like it. Travel, make some music, enjoy a meal, take a walk, then hunker down with a good book, movie, or podcast. Is this what they call “quiet quitting?” 

The historic heat wave finally seems to be dissipating, thank goodness. Ocean breezes, morning fog, and cool mists are providing welcome relief from the summer sun. Now this is the Bay Area I remember! 

Since my next performance is down in Monterey, I decided to make camp in the seaside community of Santa Cruz. I have some history with this colorful little town, a favorite destination since my first Kuumbwa date back in 1989. 

You’d think I’d grow weary after all this driving, but cruising the Pacific Coast Highway is always rejuvenating and revivifying. This scenic coastline, with the dramatic sea cliffs on one side and the serene blue ocean on the other, never fails to feed my soul. 
 

The fish tacos at the Santa Cruz beach boardwalk are exceptional, and my campsite is so beautiful I feel like I’m getting away with something! 

I spent three glorious nights at Sunset State Beach, a peaceful hideaway under the pines overlooking Monterey Bay, on the very same playa privada as $ea$cape Resort next door. 

I watched the sun go down, took a luxuriously hot shower, then curled up in my comfy bed, falling asleep to the gentle rumble of ocean waves. 

I’ll bring Scout next time. 

She will love it here.