“I can’t force you to practice.”
That memory hit me like a board in the face today. My mom introduced me to her piano. Gave me a few of my first lessons. But like with most parent/child relationships, it was like pulling teeth for her to get me to listen to her advice, and I imagine it was just as difficult for her to listen to me. In the end, I relied largely on teaching myself and eventually learned some of the basics from a local piano teacher for about six months.
Mom would tell me I wouldn’t learn, wouldn’t get better at the art unless I worked at it. Practice. Practice. Practice. Looking back, I realize now that sometimes sheer belligerence held me back from excelling during times my stubborn streak took hold. I’ve also understood, though, that some of us are simply born needing music, having to sing, play, explore and learn from sounds upon sounds upon sounds. And bonding time with my mother’s Gulbransen showed me that practice isn’t tedious or harsh, it’s freeing and hugely powerful.
Why was I reminded of “practice makes perfect”? Today a friend commented on a thread I posted yesterday on Facebook which said something to the effect that life this week has been reminding me that it works itself out if you have patience. He stated that he wasn’t there yet, implying that I was. Instantly, upon reading his words, I recognized that life keeps giving us opportunities to practice… to rehearse. And one of the things it allows is the space to develop the art of choosing how we feel in the present moment, in the here and now.
The morning was filled with little girls (my nieces) running late for a soccer game and their parents prodding them along. iPads were keeping them from staying focused on the job at hand, so they were promptly removed and immediately anger and sadness and frustration set in. You could feel it coming from them, almost thick enough to cut with a knife. I suddenly, on the drive to the park, felt so grateful for what they are showing me, what they are teaching me. They sometimes seem caught in their own emotions. Sad begins with one little rock thrown in and it ripples outward, growing in dimension and size until I’m sure from their perspectives it seems as though life is horrible and they will never know joy again. I had one of those “eureka” moments. If we can harness staying with ourselves, within ourselves, each moment while it happens, we can also consciously pick how we want to feel, how we want to spend our time and energy, our only TRUE commodities.
Do I want to waste even one precious moment dwelling on something invisible? Something I can’t reach back and grab onto, no matter how hard I try sometimes? Or do I want to keep my eyes and heart open and sit in the park and notice the beautiful colors of fall trees? Notice the laughter around me, the love exchanged by human kind? The beauty that surrounds me on every side?
Practice. Life is one event after another, affording us practice to get things "right". I cry. I get sad. I get angry. I get disappointed and hurt. But I hopefully am learning that I can guide my own energy. I can shift it and shape it until maybe someday, one day, it will flow freely and won’t be so difficult…. Like playing the piano.
Thank you, mom.
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