I poured my happiness and my angst into the keys, loving every minute of it.I pictured things, events, and people (some real, some entirely imagined— but all intensely personal) in my mind as I played, and the feelings and melodies flowed easily: frustration into Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique, wistfulness into Chopin’s nocturnes and waltzes, and sheer joy into Schubert.To my rather naïve surprise, however, instead of setting the score for Für Elise on the piano stand before me, my piano teacher handed me a set of Beginner’s Books.
Practice was no longer a chore; it was a privilege and a delight.
In high school, I began playing the piano for church services.
Muscle spasms spread throughout my body, and I briefly passed out.
Severely dehydrated, I was rushed to the hospital and quickly given more than three liters of fluids intravenously.
I rarely played a song the same way twice; the beauty of improvisation, of songwriting, is that it is as much “feeling” as it is logic and theory.
Different occasions and different moods yielded different results: sometimes, “Listen Quietly” was clean and beautiful in its simplicity; other times, it became elaborate and nearly classical in its passages.
Songs can be rewritten and reinterpreted as situation permits, but missteps are obvious because the fundamental laws of music and harmony do not change.
Although my formal music education ended when I entered college, the lessons I have learned over the years have remained close and relevant to my life.
I understand the importance of having both a sound foundation and a dedication to constant study.
I understand that to possess a passion and personal interest in something, to think for myself, is just as important.