This purports to be a brief introduction to jazz—not a dull fisting and enthusiastic prompting, like a Sears catalog, but rather, a brief exposure of at least one direction you could (can) direct the scope of your feelings. As a human being imbued with a certain amount of sensitivities (and thus needs), you perhaps need something different, something expansive, a] more subtle registration of each nuance of feeling in your life—something to reflect and fulfill the possibilities churning in your mind. Perhaps you need to listen to musicians who speak of unspeakable realization—who have taken the basic, simple thoughts and near thoughts of the profound and shaped them into melodic contours. Listening to it, you become familiar with your mind—the landscape of thoughts, not merely as a metaphor or image, but the actual ethereal landscape of thoughts, peripheral thoughts, subconscious ego, etc. You become familiar with this landscape listening to “good” jazz, listening to Shepp and Mingus, listening to Coltrane (though his bearty is so elusive—so explosive). And this metamorphosis, this profound expansion, is always unspoken. It is the music which speaks, you become the music, and words are mere conceits—extremely fragile attempts to spread the word—the feelings.