Life and Other Passions
I indulged myself in several hours of Mozart.
It was the therapy I needed to get me in the right mood for Christmas.
There is something so joyful and playful, and yet soothing about Mozart. It is not heavy stuff, but neither is it fluff.
If only I could play the flute like that! Sounds that are so smooth and sometimes flirty.
I won’t ever get beyond Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, but I am amazed I can even play that!
I dusted off the case and opened it; the 3 sections of silver flute glistened from the backdrop of black velvet. Ah. At last. I assemble the instrument and anticipate the moment beautiful sounds fill my ears.
For 8 long weeks I could not play the flute. To do so resulted in coughing up my lungs for an hour. I suffered a bad virus which incapacitated me in many ways beyond flute playing. But it was the flute playing I missed the most.
Playing an instrument is therapeutic. Even to play it badly, which is frequently my norm, is still relaxing. I relied on it to dissipate frustrating days and to mellow my working mind to an evening of peaceful reflection.
The gift this Christmas was opening that box. My neighbours probably were not so pleased. I found it difficult to play at first and I’d forgotten some notes and fingerings. Slowly it all started to come back and by today I am at least where I was 8 weeks ago. It is hard to advance much with just 25 minutes practice a day – but I am respectful of fellow tenants and limit my joy. Otherwise, I’d probably be hours at it.
During the hiatus I satisfied myself watching You Tube flute instructional videos. There are hundreds but I have my favorite and I was delighted to watch a lot of those. I also watched videos comparing all manner of flutes from student to 3 times my annual salary and had my ears heightened to the differences in tone quality (and hence my budget considerations for a flute purchase just increased).
I look at my student rental and determine to make it sound like it is 20K. Admittedly, I have difficultly making it sound as it should. No matter, in my mind I hear hypnotic melodies, sometimes even symphonies.
I am enamored with music in much the same way as I once was with mathematics. They are elegant languages, representations of things we cannot adequately put into words. The symbols allow us to replicate complicated ideas, to interpret them in our own style, embellish them, expand on them. I delight in the design and patterns formed by symbols and digits across a page. There are ground rules, but from there you can soar. From there is birthed art!
I sometimes regret not having studied music in my youth, but perhaps it would have gone the same route as mathematics. Two things conspired to make me abandon that subject; women didn’t do math in the 1960’s and they made math so boring. Thus I was highly discouraged to continue but this was not such a hardship, as the way they taught math made it exceedingly mind deadening. I was curious and creative and that does not fit rote and memorization. I found this to be a bit true when I took music lessons, and I got a little discouraged by that. I am not well suited to sit and shut up and just memorize. I want to make it mine! I want to take it places!
I put my flute away and face another week of work, very grateful that I have had these few days to rest and do the things I love. My cat takes one last swat at the metronome and all is quiet.
B flat B flat C B flat E flat C . . .
Hap-py Birth-day to me . . .
This year’s birthday I can play this tune for myself!
Long ago, my parents convinced me that I was not musically inclined. This was to keep our house quiet. Like most children however, I longed to make noise, and any noise can be music. The flute was the instrument I most wanted to learn.
In the cult movie Harold and Maude, Maude introduces the young Harold to music (ahem, among other things) saying everyone should be able to make some music. She chooses for him the instrument that most suits him, a banjo. That little snippet from the movie stayed with me because I knew the flute was what I should play. This desire never left me.
I had a bit of music education at school, but was never encouraged to pursue making sounds. Music was kept at a distance.
My Mother took me to classical music concerts because she liked to be a Princess. We’d dress up and shine in our box seats one Wednesday a month. She did not want me to learn music, she disdained the music ‘snobs’ who knew everything about certain pieces, how and why they were written, how they should sound, what they meant. “You should bring your own interpretation to it” she’d admonish me. “Just listen to it and let it take you where it will.” I did derive a great deal of enjoyment from those evenings, and I got to hear some great musicians, including Isaac Stern and Yo-Yo Ma. Musicians had a gift, they were special ‘others’, born to make music.
Then, one day, just a year ago, a friend told me she was buying a piano. She hadn’t played in years and missed it. I casually remarked on my musical inability and how I always wanted to play the flute. Well, she pulled out a piece of paper and in a matter of minutes taught me how to read basic music. “Go get your flute” she smiled.
And I did. A nice student rental.
I even took lessons, until my bank account couldn’t support that any more.
When a tune first appeared from my squeaks and squawks, I experienced magic. Those little black orbs with sticks in them lifted off the page and danced! No longer a passive listener, I became creator! Mary Had a Little Lamb! Ode to Joy! Freres Jacques!
To be fair, I am not a good player. I cannot play a lot of notes on one breath (slur), so I am limited to songs where I can go toot, toot, toot! My octaves are up in the rafters. None of this matters. A year later, a few days before my birthday, I can play the song to myself. A nice birthday gift.
Maybe next year I can buy a flute.