Music is more than hitting the correct keys on the piano.
Life, for me, is more than getting up and going to work.
Music isn’t something you can just decide to take in university.
Life isn’t something you can put on hold.
But I’ve done it all: I’ve put everything aside so I could get through the day and be happy. I’ve pushed away my dreams to make sure I had a roof over my head and food on my table. I had to learn how to calculate each step I made to make sure it was a good one. Like fingers on a piano. I’ve looked back at every step I made to see how it affected me.
Perhaps I’ve weeded out all I can weed out and now depression just happens when it wants to happen.
I “learned” to play piano, my first two years of piano, on a “being” with a broken sound board. I loved the sounds that came out, but it didn’t sound right when I went to play at my teacher’s house. The sounds were different. SO for two years without being aware I was learning to play by making sure my hands went in the correct place at the correct time. Not by sounds and patterns and feeling.
I played my piano last night, a little"True Colours" from the glee book, and heard sounds and patterns that I had never let myself hear before. I can’t even put it into words. It’s just the magic of music.
Maybe what I need to do now, is still watch the feet, but let the feeling and the patterns come in too, just like music. Muisc and life tangle together and pull me forward. As I dream forward,