Monthly Archives: November 2019

November 14:  Playing Piano Makes Me Better

Posted on by
1

 

Uncle Kawai 2011

NaBloPoMo 2019

Friends, do you play an instrument?

There is just something about music, no?  It’s transcendent.

I started playing piano late, at age 11.  There were two stores, at opposite ends of the mall, which sold pianos.  Our family made multiple round trips one weekend, listening to salesmen play the ebony Yamaha upright at one place, then the walnut Kawai upright at the other.  It had taken me a year, but I finally committed to practicing daily, and my parents agreed to invest in a good instrument.  I knew instantly that it must be the Kawai.  Somehow it took the ‘rents a few more tries (I was very patient—the stakes were high, as I was the one who had to play it) before they finally agreed.  I have always loved that piano.

Into high school, practice flagged often.  But I kept my commitment until volleyball and AP classes took over the waking hours of life.  By then my sisters had started playing, so I was let out of my contract early.  Looking back, it was only a slog at the beginning of any practice session.  Sitting down begrudgingly, intending to play for the minimum required time, I always stayed longer, feeling more relaxed and just a little more accomplished when I stood back up.  I did not realize it at the time, but playing piano soothed me.  Thankfully my mom pointed it out at some point, and I appreciated the experience that much more.

I was never a very good pianist.  Reading music was never easy or natural.  I had no patience to master music theory.  But I saved the music for certain pieces that I loved—Fur Elise, Pachelbel’s Canon in D (played to accompany the Mixed Choir singing The First Noel my sophomore year), and a Sonatina by Clementi.  Still, I did not play for at least 20 years.

My son wanted to play trumpet.  I waited.  Then he wanted to play violin, and I waited some more.  How about piano?  YES.  No mall, no local piano store.  But there was one place in a suburb close to church.  We went to see the cherry upright that I saw on the website.  It looked shabby and sounded terrible.  Looking around the crowded front showroom, no other pieces appealed to me in the least.  There was one walnut Kawai baby grand…  The sound was full, round, and resonant, like a true Kawai.  But it was outside of my price range.  The salesman looked at me a while, as if discerning something.  Then he took me to the back, where another Kawai baby grand stood in the corner, an ebony one.  Recently refinished, you could still see water rings and long, shallow cracks in the wood of the music shelf.  The bottom edge of the key bed had a series of almond-shaped dents, as if it had slid down a flight of stairs once.  It took about five seconds after hearing it played for me to buy it, cash.

Since 2011 our house has enjoyed the sounds of children learning to play music on Uncle Kawai.  The tuner said it was made in 1969, and the keys had never been eased.  Apparently Uncle had never had a home where he could showcase his full potential.  He was waiting for us.  Over the years I have occasionally sat down, pulled out my old sheet music, practiced a few minutes here and there.  Never enough time, always something else I had to go do.

This summer I finally undertook to learn Canon in C, which both kids have now played.  It’s a short, exceedingly simple variation on the theme, and yet sublimely beautiful to hear.  It’s even more glorious to play first-hand.  Even over the parts where I always stumble on the fingering, even though Uncle really needs another tuning, playing these two pages of music calms me, gives me joy, in a way no other activity can.

*sigh*

I’m always better when I’m calm and happy.

November 13:  Lightening Up Makes Me Better

Posted on by
5

 

 

IMG_2005

NaBloPoMo 2019

“Write without fear.  Edit without mercy.” —Unknown?

Hi, I’m Cathy, I’m a perfectionist.  I might be a control freak.  But I’m in recovery.

I kind of like that I proudly published a run-on post of a half-formed idea, then slashed it by one third and published it again.  It’s a fun paradox to inhabit pride and humility at the same time.

Other writers help.  I’ve written before about The Art of Possibility.  Phrases like, “How fascinating!” when I make a mistake make room for self-compassion and -forgiveness.   This attitude of good humor keeps me from wallowing in self-flagellation.  Because I am also accountable, I can learn and make amends more swiftly and earnestly.  The Zanders’ Rule #6: Don’t Take Yourself So Damn Seriously, is such an easy catch phrase to remember, and takes practice to live in real time.  I’m getting there!

Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, full of vivid, joyful, and wondrous stories of human creativity, encourages me to take risks.  Make pretty things, she writes.  Don’t do it for us, don’t do it to help anyone.  Do it because you want to.  Your unique expression has a value all its own, so put it into the world.  Period.

Ozan says, “Do the verb”:

In many cases, we want to be the noun (a songwriter) without doing the verb (writing songs). We tell ourselves we’re going to be an entrepreneur, but we don’t build a product or service. We tell ourselves we’re going to be a novelist, but we don’t write a novel (instead, we tweet about writing a novel).

The key is to forget the noun and do the verb instead.

If you want to be a blogger, start blogging every week.

If you want to be a stand-up comedian, start doing stand-up comedy at open mike nights.

If you want to host a podcast, start podcasting.

…Doing the verb reorients you away from the outcome and toward the process. And if you plan to be a professional at anything, the process–the verb–is all that matters.

With these inspiring innovators’ help, I skip freely along on the path of writing, light on my feet.  When I trip on a rock and face plant next to some wildflowers and an earthworm, I can take off my glasses and stare a little longer from this new perspective.  I’ll likely find something to write about from it.  Sweet!

Even when I think an idea is fully formed, the act of writing expands it.  This week I have discovered deeper meaning in my stories, just by way of typing them.  More material to chew and spew, yay!

This is not brain surgery, writing a blog.  I’m not saving lives here!  But it is a challenge, a commitment, and sometimes a labor.  I hear my own voice consistently throughout almost 5 years of posts, and while my style is still consistent, I also see an evolution in the writing.  I’m gratified to continue the discipline, and taking it ever lightly definitely makes me better.

November 12:  Edits and Revisions MMB–Fierce Optimism 2.0

Posted on by
5

 

NaBloPoMo 2019

24 hour learnings:

  1. Unfocused thoughts lead to unfocused writing
  2. I tend toward word vomit when I’m excited

Note:  Hereafter, I will use “MMB” as the abbreviation for “Make(s) Me Better” if the title gets too long.

My deepest gratitude to lovingly honest friends whose feedback on last night’s post inspired me to attempt it again!  Let’s see how this goes—

***

Last Saturday, as I prepared for the Better Angels workshop, I thought of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s inspirational words:  “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.”  I have referred to this quote many times over the years, and a phrase that I often add goes something like, “Bend that arc!  Hang on it with all your might!”  Meaning the arc bends toward justice only because we make it so, by working tirelessly for it, by consistently walking our talk.

Preparing for the presentation, I thought about friends who express hopelessness at any possibility for connection between opposing political sides, that we can actually work together to get anything done.  Some might even say that the Better Angels mission is futile, a waste of energy and time.

Then I felt something akin to a tidal wave rise within me, and I texted a friend, “I intend to make today a day of fierce, infectious optimism.”  At that moment I knew my goal was to take every experience of kindness, connection, empathy, openness, generosity, magnanimity, conviction, and hope, and channel it to the workshop and its participants.  Because though it was to be a skills workshop, teaching a way of doing, what we really need are all of the qualities I just listed—they are the way of being that bring true meaning and connection to the skills.

Google Dictionary defines fierce:  “showing a heartfelt and powerful intensity”; and optimism: “hopefulness and confidence about the future or the successful outcome of something.”

Yes, and:

Fierce Optimism Is:

Urgency with Patience

All important social movements occur (and continue) over generations.  Confrontation and revolution are necessary sometimes, but they are not enough.  It’s consistent, slow, grass roots change on the local level that sustains progress.  Fierce optimism gives me faith that even the smallest actions I make in service of my cause have impact.  I can set realistic expectations for how much I can move this mountain today.  Pacing myself, practicing persistence with patience, conserves energy and prevents burnout.  I can feel empowered and liberated at the same time, confident in my individual agency.

Patient urgency also allows me to look up every once in a while, notice my surroundings, and adapt to subtle changes, like when someone starts to soften.  The bulldozer of impatient words and heavy dogma plows through the door of someone’s mind that might have swung open freely, had I taken a more gentle approach.

Strength with Flexibility

Fierce optimism roots itself in core values, and also allows for learning and adaptation.  It confers the confidence to challenge our own beliefs and values, perhaps reinforcing them, grounding us in and strengthening our own personal truth.  But this confidence also helps us hear others’ stories, which broadens our perspective.  Standing in our core values while reaching out in curiosity, we learn about each other, and curtains open on a vast landscape of understanding that we may never have imagined.

Bruce Lee’s life philosophy included a metaphor of the bamboo and the oak.  Both are admirably strong, but under intense forces of nature, the great oak may break irrevocably.  The bamboo bends; it maintains its integrity, standing straight and strong again after the storm.  Listening with openness and curiosity is not weakness.  Allowing for nuance and the possibility that my mind may be changed is strength.  It makes me calm, agile, adaptable, and more effective.

Conviction with Generosity

Our assumptions matter.  They show up in our presence.  Let us check our attitudes toward the ‘other’.  Assuming and speaking only to their presumed selfishness and malevolence, we make ourselves small.  We become exactly the narrow minded and prejudiced enemy we deride.  How ironic.  Now more than ever, we need generosity.  This encompasses empathy, vulnerability, sincerity, humility, and a willingness to allow the complete humanity of every person.  Extending this grace to others in no way undermines my own cause.  It opens my heart to attract allies from everywhere.  Conviction without generosity too easily becomes tyranny; I want no part of that.

Fierce optimism choreographs an intimate dance between agitation and peace.  It holds tension without anxiety, potential and kinetic energy.

When I live in Fierce Optimism, I can hang on that arc and bend it like a badass.