Celebrating the muisc of my heart - one imperfectly attempted song at a time

Celebrate This Week was established by Ruth Ayres

It's been almost a year since I made the decision to buy a new, shiny black baby grand piano. Just like the kind I've always wanted since I was a little girl.

I'd like to say I play it all the time and that I've gone back to the dedication and ability I had when I was younger and took piano lessons from age nine until twenty-two.

But here's the honest truth: Even though I play more than I used to, it's nowhere near as much as I thought I would.

I was hoping I'd revive some of the old classical pieces I used to play with such verve and enthusiasm that my hands would just remember how to play them. Pieces like Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C-Sharp Minor, Beethoven's Sonata Pathetique, Chopin's Waltz in C-Sharp Minor, Mozart's Fantasy in D Minor.

But that didn't happen. I just don't have the time or the stamina anymore.

What I do have, however, is the love of music. The desire to still grace my fingers across those keys, no matter how awkward and clunky it might be. The pleasure to play has come back where it wasn't before. But I have resigned myself to the fact that I will likely never really perfect a difficult piece of  classical music ever again. Very rarely do I have the stamina or attention span to attempt an entire piece from start to finish. I dip in and out of songs, playing a phrase here, a section there. When my hands don't feel like playing a particular piece, I move on to something else. When my hands tell me that they love the way a particular song feels as they move along the keys, I oblige. And while it's never close to perfect or even always pretty, my heart has finally come back to the piano. One imperfectly attempted song at a time. Just like this one (my hands are particularly a fan of playing this song):

Remembering Joy

Today I cried while playing a Chopin Nocturne.


It was fraught with wrong notes and stifled rhythms, and for a few moments, I had a hard time seeing the music through my tears. But I played it all the way through and it was glorious.

I cried because I remembered what it was like to sit at the piano again and feel joy. And while I have shed many tears over the past fourteen years as a result of my lost musical passions, today I cried for the first time, not for the years I lost, but instead because I remembered and it didn't hurt.

Celebrate dreams fulfilled

From the time I was born we had a piano in our house. It was a relic from when my sister took lessons for about a year, but as tends to happen with kids, she lost interest and the Baldwin spinet sat in our living room taking up space.

From the time I was old enough to talk, however, I showed a great desire to learn how to play this fascinating instrument with its white and black "teeth." Which is why, despite the fact that when my family moved from Michigan to Kentucky the year before I started first grade, we moved the piano with us. Otherwise, I'm sure it would have been sold.

First photo evidence of my desire to play the piano

My parents never actively sought out a piano teacher for me. Probably because they were waiting for the right time when they felt I was old and mature enough to begin learning. But as fortune would have it, a new family moved on our street and it just so happened that the mom was a piano teacher. So at nine years old, I finally began learning how to play the piano.

As much as I love the instrument, I have always been especially smitten with shiny black baby grand pianos in particular. The gloss and the curves hypnotize me. They always have. When my husband and I lived in Germany back in 2003, we even visited the Bösendorfer headquarters in Vienna, which are known for being the best pianos in the world. Just as it is the dream of every violinist to play a Stradivarius, so too is it the dream of a pianist to play a Bösendorfer. It was one of the most magical moments in my life when I had the opportunity play a few of those glorious instruments. But the minimum $90,000 price tag means that I will never get to own that particular brand of piano. Still, it was wonderful just to have the opportunity to try out a few.




There was a time, however, in my storied history with the piano that I didn't want to play anymore. In fact, we're still on the back end of that time. I initially went to college thinking I would be a music teacher. I wish that thought had never crossed my mind. During most of my time learning to play the piano I had a wonderful, nurturing teacher who celebrated the individuality of all of her students rather than acted as a taskmaster who made all her students live up to some classical music ideal. Passion for music was more important to her than perfection. But when I arrived at college, my teachers -- one in particular -- represented the latter and squashed all the love and passion for music right out of my heart. I tried to hold onto it, but sitting at the piano was now painful for me rather than joyful.

When my husband and I were first married and living in Germany, he bought me a digital piano in an attempt to get me to try to find my way back again. But at that point, the wounds were still too new and too raw and I rarely played.

As the years have gone by, time has begun to heal my wounds and I recently entertained the thought that I want to fulfill that dream I had when I was little of one day owning a baby grand piano.

Yesterday I put down a deposit on this beauty:


I think I'm going to name her Tori. She's not a Bösendorfer, but she plays just like I want her to and has a lovely sound. I think think this is the start (and also the continuation) of a beautiful friendship.

Celebrate This Week was established by Ruth Ayers