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    The Possibility of Transformation

    Peter
    Buffett, son of billionaire investor Warren Buffett, is an Emmy
    Award-winning composer, NY Times best-selling author and noted
    philanthropist. Currently, he is releasing socially-conscious music and
    touring his “Concert & Conversation” series in support of his book
    Life Is What You Make It

    This is a song about transformation. While that
    may not be readily apparent by listening, it’s the story behind it that
    explains why this is so:

    “Butterfly” by Peter Buffett

    I grew up in a house with an upright piano. As
    soon as I could stand tall enough to reach the keys, I would bang out
    expressions. Thunder on the low keys, rain on top. Soon these turned into
    little melodies. Or I would use the keyboard to try and decipher the mystery
    behind what made a good song so good.

    I was taking lessons by the time I went into the
    first grade. But after learning the basics of scales and correct fingering, I
    started to get frustrated at all those black dots and lines on the page. It was
    a lot more fun to make things up; to try and capture the ideas I heard in my
    head. 

    By the time I was in high school, I was playing
    four-handed piano with a friend and soon realized that my skills were limited.
    I just couldn’t hear the kinds of things he was hearing. I couldn’t seem to
    sense what complexities lay beneath the simple melodies and harmonic structure
    that came naturally to me. And while I never really considered that music would
    be any more than a pleasant diversion, this greater awareness of my limitations
    sealed the deal. 

    I went off to college without a clear idea of
    what would come of it. Taking everything that ended in 101 or -ology, I enjoyed
    learning a little about a lot of things. But nothing reached in and said,
    “This is your life!”

    I was fortunate to have a little money set aside
    that allowed me to buy a portable piano and a 4-track reel to reel tape
    recorder. So I would continue to play and write songs when I wasn’t in school.
    It was also around this time that my continual wish that I could play the
    guitar came into full bloom. Oh how nice it would be to grab a guitar and head
    to the beach and play. Somehow, strapping a piano to my back just wasn’t an
    option. 

    College progressed and there was no clear path
    in sight. 

    One night, a friend suggested I come over to his
    dorm and check out a local guitar player that was coming by to perform. I
    did, and it changed my life. 

    Here was someone–William Ackerman, to be
    specific–who was sitting on the floor playing from his heart. Simple melodies
    that spoke so much more than any complex chord or harmonic structure could ever
    do.

    I raced home and started to create songs that
    were both new, and that I knew by heart. From that point forward music would
    be the driving force in my life. I wish I could say precisely what that moment
    triggered in me. But I do know that it took every aspect of my life up until
    that point to make that moment what it was. I couldn’t have planned it. And I
    couldn’t have made it happen any sooner. All the experiences and frustrations–smart choices and wrong directions–lead me right to the perfect place. 

    Since then, I’ve still always wanted to play the
    guitar. To be able to sit down and just let my heart speak through the strings.
    But ultimately, I never had the discipline to learn. 

    So now, as of the latest download of the
    latest version of “this really sounds like a guitar,” I can sit at
    the piano and let my hands believe they are holding a guitar and my fingers
    believe that they are playing the strings. 

    This song is about the beginning of my journey into a life of music. And the completion of one part I wasn’t so sure would
    ever be possible: to create the sounds I would make if I just sat down with a
    guitar and free associated as I would if I could really play one. 

    Like a butterfly, my fingers would light where
    they would and then move on. I wonder if the butterfly remembers the comfort of
    its cocoon? And what made it too uncomfortable to stay there? There’s the
    possibility of transformation in each of us. What will it take? Too much
    discomfort with the old? Or a path as clear as a guitar player playing from his
    heart?

    What do you think? Share your story at changeourstory.com. Visit www.peterbuffett.comto learn more and Change Our Story to
    join the conversation on how we all can become active participants in shaping
    our future.

    Image courtesy of Randy Read, licensed underCreative Commons.