Instrumental Learning

A New Language

I'm finally doing something I always promised myself I'd do: 

I'm learning how to play piano.

I'd never taken any instrumental lessons in my life, only voice, and I thought it was about time I tried, even if I was in my 40's.

I suppose this later-in-life artistic self-expression has been passed down to me genetically. My paternal grandfather, "Paw Paw", as we grandkids called him, took up painting at age 80. He was a meat cutter and grocery store owner for several decades before he retired in 1970.

One of Paw Paw's first works

But one day, in between leisurely golf games and hanging out with my sweet grandmother, "Rita", in their tiny and inviting South Florida cottage, Paw Paw decided to give painting a go. And paint he did, converting their garage into a studio filled with easels, canvases, tubes of acrylic paints, brushes, and mixing trays. He even went so far as to fashion his own frames out of reclaimed wood, long before using reclaimed wood was über cool, mind you.

(Full disclosure: I'm positive he never once used the term, "reclaimed." His description was probably more along the lines of, "found", as in, "Hey look, Rita. I just found these ol' pieces of wood on the side of the road. I'll bet I can use them for a frame.")

Now dozens of Paw Paw's paintings- framed, mind you- are hanging in homes scattered all over the country, divvied up between his kids and grandkids. And yes, I did indeed say "dozens": he lived to be 97, and enjoyed 15 solid years of painting during his twilight years.

While my grandfather had no reservations about starting something 40 years past 40, I'll admit to possessing a pesky little naysaying voice. It likes to hang out on my shoulder when I sit down to play, whispering disparaging remarks such as:

"Music lessons are expensive. Shouldn't I only be paying for the kids to learn something new?"

or

Shouldn't I be working?

and

 How can this feel so satisfying? You know, like I'm accomplishing something? Accomplishments should, by definition, further my career, right?

 Chinoiserie detail on piano,
by Amanda de la Colina,
my maternal great grandmother,
who painted this piano well past her 40's.

Thankfully, the notes quickly drown out those pervasive "should's", leaving me completely engrossed in my own little musical world.

Playing an instrument, I've discovered, is an incredibly fun and constructive activity to incorporate into my days of working and parenting. For one, playing allows me to exercise my brain in an entirely different way than I'm accustomed to. Not only am I speaking a different language, that of notes and intervals and rhythms, I'm forcing myself to use each hand for a separate task.

Coordination of left and right brain hemispheres?

Oh. Yeah.

For those who don't play, allow me to explain: the left hand typically covers the bass clef and the right hand the treble clef- which means I have to simultaneously perform two different activities. (Kind of like patting your head with one hand and rubbing your stomach with the other.) However, thanks to muscle memory, the more I practice, the more my hands just "remember" and I find I'm more easily able to split focus between my right and left hands.

Apparently, I'm hardly imagining the mental stretching taking place. Many studies have shown the cognitive benefits of playing an instrument, from brain stimulation to specific motor control and coordination to positive effects on the aging brain. In fact, the analytical and emotional complexities of piano performance alone allow for the brain to efficiently challenge its plasticity, according to neuroscientists.

Ruth Silk, watercolor
My maternal grandmother painted the above at age 60 +

But countless studies aside, beginning a new instrument quite simply triggers a playful sense of letting go and being okay with making mistakes. And many mistakes doth I make, since I am, most assuredly, a beginner. And one of the ummm... let's just say, more mature students.

Before and after my lesson, young, Dr. Seuss-loving tykes skip in for their weekly lessons, swinging their little piano bags merrily behind them as they plop down on the piano bench- which, by the way, is scooted in all the way so their feet can graze the pedals. And thanks to a great teacher, many of them sound incredible, their nimble little fingers gliding along the keys with ease. And yes, listening to them feels a trifle humbling. But most of the time it feels good to be a beginner again, or, more specifically, to allow myself to be a beginner again; the hope of improvement stretched out before me in a vast, promising horizon. I look forward to the time when I will actually start to make beautiful music that sounds more, ummm... let's just say, accomplished.

Take time to take pictures.

What about you? When was the last time you invested time in yourself for the sole purpose of growing your mind and body? For the singular objective of enriching your mental, creative and/or physical well-being? Even if it means going back to being a beginner again?

And what if you were to go crazy and give yourself permission to monetarily invest in yourself?  Whether it be acquiring a new camera, booking a weekly yoga class, or taking yourself to the movies on Sunday afternoons, you will help to satisfy your mind's instinctive hunger for knowledge and expansion. (Dare I add that it may even feel revolutionary!)

If Paw Paw were still with me, I'm sure he'd agree. No fancy research required.