Mary loved playing the piano. It was all she could think of really, and it was the first real passion of her life. For months, she pestered her parents for lessons and amazingly, as a gift for her tenth birthday, they agreed to stretch their Depression era budget to afford lessons.
She was lucky to match up with an inspirational teacher and together they worked from beginning exercises to much more complicated pieces. Mary was happy and sailed through her lessons and recitals. But there was a catch. As the pieces became more difficult, instead of learning to read notation, Mary relied on what she thought was her memory to play the music back for her teacher. Nobody knew then that Mary had a gift: she could listen to a piece of music played once and then play the entire thing without using sheet music. She progressed rapidly until her teacher noticed what was going on and decided to teach Mary a very different, and very unfortunate, lesson.
At what became Mary’s last recital, her teacher allowed her to play a few pieces which were much appreciated by those in attendance. After the applause, the teacher set out a new piece of music and announced that since Mary was so accomplished, they would all enjoy her performance of this new piece. At that moment Mary knew that she was caught out and, cringing with shame, struggled through the piece, mortified to her soul.
And that was that. Mary, stinging from the humiliation, stopped taking lessons. She lost her joy in playing. In her mind she was the embarrassed and talentless girl who couldn’t read music. The internal scar of public humiliation overshadowed her ability, her gift, and she refused to play in front of anyone again. Her beloved piano teacher, I am sure, thought to embarrass Mary into learning to read music but it failed miserably.
This happened to my Grandma Mary, and that invalidation stayed with her for her entire life.
I’m sharing this story of loss because most of us have had an experience or two that derailed our own music-making. We all know somebody: Liz developed stage fright. Richard was bullied for playing the flute. Janice was kicked out of her old time band. Bob was never chosen. Carla was told she had a tin ear. It doesn’t matter if you’re a music savant or back porch picker: there are an infinite number of ways we can be invalidated into giving up our interest, our joy, and our passion for playing music.
So, my friend, if something has happened to sidetrack your music playing, whatever the cause, however you feel hurt or wronged or guilty or harmed, consider letting the music back in. Whatever is holding you back, just go ahead and play anyway. If you’re in a bored rut playing by yourself at home, try playing in a jam with others. If the jam scene feels too overwhelming, hang out on the edges for awhile. If you don’t know where to start, try taking a workshop or class. If you feel pressured playing in groups, play in private. If self-judgement has you stuck, try whiskey. What it all comes down to is, each and every one of us deserves to enjoy our music however it best suits us and in whatever form it takes. This time around when you play, own it for yourself and no one else.
