I was on vacation in Idyllwild when I saw a poster for a jazz performance at a local restaurant. The local rock and gem shop lady told me it can be hard to be seated near the band so I arrived early. The restaurant was very hip and snooty- someone seated me on the patio near the stage and gave me a menu. The only thing I could afford was a salad. The band arrived- a trio, piano, sax and drums. Their style was so quiet and slow I was almost falling asleep in the salad. The menu said the salad had chicken, bacon, cheese, onions, and olives, but the tiny bits were almost invisible in a heap of exotic tough green leaves. I asked for Basalmic vinegar and oil dressing. It was about 7:00 in the evening and I was starving. I was picking at the tiny bits of nourishment in a sea of rough greens, shriveled bitter olives, and sour vinegar, as the snooze music puttered on. I was considering leaving when the band leader announced that they would play a piece called “Center of the Universe”. I gave up on the salad and listened. I found myself relaxing and drifting for a long time. Then there was a nearly invisible vortex on the stage and I floated into it, and was consumed into it’s center, a quiet cosmic center, somewhere near yet far. I looked at the musicians, who seemed quite serene. Of course they knew what they were doing, why else would they call it center of the universe? But imagine my surprise. The piece ended and I returned to my sour salad. At the end of the set I left the restaurant.