I’ve taken piano lessons for almost three and a half years, and – in effort and time — it has been an education comparable to the years I spent in college. In the latter situation, however, I graduated after a four-year stint. With piano, there is no such celebration on the horizon.
I don’t feel discouraged. Rather, I revel in what I have learned and in what there is yet to master. And, believe me, there is a world to master.
This week’s lesson is a case in point. I have three pieces to work on before I meet with my piano teacher next Wednesday afternoon. One is a finger exercise that helps the student put the right finger on the right piano key. It sounds simple, but it isn’t. The second is an arrangement of Chopin’s Opus 10, No 3, a classical piece that I would never be able to undertake, except that it’s slow . . . a change of pace for its composer.
And the third is a swing piece designed to help me practice seventh chords while feeling as if I’m making progress with them. It’s taught me that I like swing and blues best.
Long term piano study isn’t for the faint hearted. It requires daily practice, the acceptance of slow progress, and the acknowledgement that one learns more via mistakes than from the final mastery of a piece. It’s about the process and not the end.
In a way, learning the piano reminds me of traveling. You get a lot more from the adventure if you accept the journey as the destination, rather than pinning your hopes on the actual destination. This is a help because, in piano reality, I will never reach the ultimate destination.
Oh but the joy along the way.
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