Yesterday I realized that it had been a while since I sat down at my piano. I had some time on my hands and there was a tune in my head that I wanted to try out. After plunking around for a while trying to bring order to a new composition, I gradually slipped back into music I used to play long ago.
Isn’t it funny how different senses can remind you of things long-forgotten? In this case, as I played I remembered various thoughts, emotions, and experiences connected to the assortment of tunes.
I remembered the music room at the international boarding school I attended in Nigeria – a place where I would go periodically during Study Hall or breaks, particularly when I needed an outlet. I recalled a classmate who used to use the same music room from time to time for his own compositions, and sometimes we would listen to each other and even try out some variations on our own. One of the pieces I enjoy playing today is actually an adaptation of one of his melodies. [When I put my own twist on it, does that make my version authentically “mine”??]
As I played another piece (this one truly created by myself), I laughed as I remembered that I wrote the score during a history class in college. (I’d say “Shhh, don’t tell” but it doesn’t really matter anymore.) I had already composed the music in high school. I just couldn’t get my brain to focus on this college class so I used the time to record the score on paper.
As I played yesterday, my fingers needed some warming up and my playing wasn’t perfect. But I was taken way back to the days when the piano was a means of expression for me. If I was excited about something, it was reflected in the way I played. You could also pick up if I was disappointed, sad, frustrated, or mad. I played until I had expressed what I needed to. I didn’t need an audience. In fact, I didn’t want one because I wasn’t playing for anyone’s benefit. I didn’t want or need anyone’s approval. I was just playing for the enjoyment/release of it.
Yesterday felt the same. I didn’t realize I had so much to express until I started playing. About an hour and a half later, I got up from the piano thankful for the release I didn’t know I needed.
One of the beautiful things about music is that you don’t need words to explain anything. No need to find and corral the right words in any language. Just play. Ahhhhhhhh…..
Yesterday I realized that it had been a while since I sat down at my piano. I had some time on my hands and there was a tune in my head that I wanted to try out. After plunking around for a while trying to bring order to a new composition, I gradually slipped back into music I used to play long ago.
A childhood daydream came to mind today. This was when I was in Cameroon – maybe 5th or 6th grade? In those days I remember that my brothers and I used to play “military drills” with some of our friends. I often got the privilege of being the signaler, indicating which direction the next person needed to run and hide. Maybe it’s because I had a watch and I could time everyone so we could work on improving our time. What’s funny is that I don’t recall us ever operating with two teams. We were always just one team (according to my memory), practicing drills and preparing for an imaginary enemy. I am happy to report that we were never defeated!
So I daydreamed that I somehow got connected to a group of gendarmes. [OK, even at an early age, my daydreams required a measure of logic. How would I, a missionary kid, possibly come under the apprenticeship or upbringing of gendarmes?? The logical reason I came up with is probably also the reason I kept the daydream to myself lest I be misunderstood. My conclusion was that something happened to my parents so some kind gendarmes took us under their wing. Yes, I know that’s not entirely realistic but it was something (and it prompted a conversation with my mother during which I found out there really was a contingency plan if something ever happened to them).]
