“The piano is my meditation”
USA - On most mornings, Matthew Shaver casually emerges from the packs of speed-walking commuters scuttling across Union Station and quietly takes a seat at the public piano at the heart of one of Los Angeles’ busiest transportation hubs. For 20 straight minutes — the maximum play time, according to the posted rules — Shaver takes over the keys, filling the atrium with buoyant improvisations of jazz, pop and blues. His playing often attracts a small crowd. Tourists film him. Regulars drop spare change and bills. He’s such a fixture that if the security guards are otherwise occupied (or feeling generous), he might get to play longer than the time limit. On a recent Monday morning, a man jumps out of the crowd and joins the pianist for an impromptu duet. When the number is over, the crowd applauds and cheers. A woman in a wheelchair wanders over, tucks a bill into his hand and says, “Bless you, child.” “Thank you,” Shaver says quietly. “Thank you so much.” Despite these well-received appearances at Union Station, the pianist often draws a double take. Shaver, 30, is homeless — or, as he likes to describe it, “home free.” Tall and slender with chiseled features, Shaver dons a uniform that consists of a pair of ragged Carhartt overalls worn without a shirt. His chest is emblazoned with a pair of tattoos: one an elaborate fish resembling a Japanese block print; the other an image of a pirate and the words “life” and “death.” “I love pirates”, he says with a smile. Shaver has played piano since he was 4 — introduced to the instrument by two older sisters who taught him the basics. He was soon studying classical music with private instructors but says he really came to love piano when he learned about jazz and blues. The piano, he says, “is the most positive influence in my life.” It is through the piano, he says, that “I felt accepted, I felt wanted, I felt that I was useful, that I could do something that could last.” Shaver lives on the streets outside of Union Station and materializes most mornings to play — for money, but also fulfillment. “It’s a meditation,” he says. “Like, you pray about something and then you meditate on it. The piano is my meditation.”
A circle of people nearly always surrounds him, respectfully listening whenever he’s at the keys. It’s hard to think of many situations in which someone who lives on the streets is treated with such deference by complete strangers. (latimes)