I am now well into my fifth year of piano lessons; and, if talent rules, then logic suggests I should quit. I will never be a good, much less great, pianist. At the same time, the humbling experience of a weekly piano lesson has done much for me.
It’s made me appreciate music. Oh, I’ve loved music all my life, but never understood how it was put together. Sure I could blame my third grade singing teacher who said that I should just mouth the words when our little choir sang. Hurt by her insensitivity, I’ve been mouthing ever since. That equates to years and years of lost time. Maybe I wasn’t the best singer, but at least I could have learned more about music. I didn’t. That is, until I began piano lessons with a most supportive teacher. At last I learned the basics that I missed from third grade on.
Taking a weekly lesson also has helped develop brain power; at my age, this is important. I find I must practice daily to retain what I’ve learned, and this makes me even more aware that those things we learn as children stay with us while those things we learn as adults tend to flitter.
Then there’s the money I’ve poured into this venture. A name brand grand piano isn’t inexpensive and years of lessons don’t come cheaply either. I could have purchased a high end automobile for what this hobby has cost. At the same time, I am more enriched by the experience than I could possibly be by any fancy car.
I’ll continue taking lessons and practicing, demanding that my fingers reach for sevenths and octaves and struggling with the frustration of not being able to do something well. Most of my life I’ve only endeavored those things that I knew I could master. So maybe the greatest accomplishment of all is simply working on something that I know I will never be good at. It’s not the end result; it’s the journey along the way.
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