piano

When I was in the 3rd grade the piano seemed to be a barrier between my friends and me. They were outside riding bikes and playing games while I sat at the piano and practiced scales.

Up and down. Up and down.

My fingers moved quickly across the keys while my mind thought about all of the fun I was missing outside. I didn’t have to practice long, but even one hour to a child seems like an eternity.

My left hand moved reluctantly like a child not wanting to go to sleep.

When I was in the 5th grade I took piano lessons from an accomplished pianist who also published his own music.

I dreaded those lessons.

My teacher smoked constantly throughout my lesson. I never knew if it was because he felt I was assassinating his music or if he was, by nature, a very nervous person. The smoke filled my lungs as I tried to play.

Sometimes I was angry that I was playing in such a smoked filled room. My anger surfaced in the music I played.

BOOM, ba BOOM, ba BOOM, BA BOOM.

It was on those days that my teacher gave me top scores. It was then I learned that my emotions could be communicated through music.

Bars 1–2 from Claude Debussy's Sarabande from ...

As a teenager I went through a rebellious period where I told my parents that I would never play the piano again. They of course knew that I would miss it and I would find my way back.

Throughout the years I have played the piano a little bit here and there and I have also written some music.

As an adult, I find playing the piano extremely relaxing, but I never seem to find time to play.  Let me rephrase that.  I never seem to MAKE time to play.

Life tends to crowd out our activities unless we learn how to safeguard the things that are important to us. Sometimes we don’t even realize what gives us inspiration and what make us happy.

Perhaps there is a musical instrument in your past that needs to be dusted off and revisited.

Maybe it is time to start learning a new instrument!

Where do you find inspiration?

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