I
started playing the piano when I was young. When I started learning music, my
teacher taught me rhythm by having me stomp and clap to the beat. This meant
that my repertoire consisted of what I could stomp and clap. Now I am currently
working on the piece "Through Moanin' Pines", an early advanced song.
It has always interested me how I could go from all my musical talent being
stored in one finger to reading pages of music covered in ink. I think this
also applies to my high school education because I'm ready to finish the
“stomping stage.”
When I went to my first lesson, everything seemed intimidating. There was a
tall lady who kept telling me what to do, large machines with unusual buttons,
mysterious charts, graphs, and tapes. I never thought I’d be able to comprehend
what was going on and what I was doing. I was forced to do some odd rituals
similar to a dance. It all seemed so suspicious. Soon after that dreadful day,
everything changed: that tall lady, weird machine, everything. Step by step, I
began to grasp the concepts behind this thing they call music.
My piano lessons started with simple games so I would understand things like
rhythm or how long a beat was and gradually transitioned into chords and
scales. At first it didn’t make any sense. “Why do these particular buttons
work together but these don’t?” That was the general question asked by my
5-year-old brain. Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t even the half of it. I had
to press buttons at different pressures, speeds, and timings. I had to use more
than one hand at the same time or use the pedals with my feet. All these tasks
didn’t seem possible to do simultaneously. Those thoughts persisted until the
moment I could actually do it. It was magic! Everything seemed supernatural at
that point. It was time for the show: Lights, camera, action!
I’ll admit it. When I started playing piano, I loathed performing at recitals
and concerts. Performing was pure agony. My teacher, however, insisted it was
important. I could not understood why. Couldn’t we just learn music and keep it
to ourselves? Now I understand that without something to strive for, without a
testament to what we’ve accomplished, we’ll never have the motivation to finish
it. That one idea, motivation, has meant a lot to me. The same idea that brings
doughnuts and cake to people’s minds is what allowed me to accomplish great
things.
I’ve been taking piano lessons for over 10 years, objectively speaking, but the
impact from the simple practice of learning music has gone much farther than
time. I’ve spent so much time pressing those keys of white and black no unit of
time can do it justice. In retrospect, it's funny how this abstract concept of
music, combined with this oddly shaped machine became such an influential part
of my life.
Every once in a while my extended family comes in with their little troop of
toddlers. They see that magical box of musical wonder and start banging
on the keys just to see what happens. I see in that moment a fraction of what I
was like, how much I’ve changed. Then almost immediately one specific question
pops up, “Can you play?” That's all I need to hear. There’s nothing left to do
but bang on those keys.
