The Stories we Tell Ourselves

I've practiced the piano about 30 hours over the past three months.

Doesn't sound like much, except that over the past two decades, I've practiced a total of 100 hours, if I'm being generous, compared with the 5,000+ hours I'd logged by my mid-20s.

When I was 8 years-old I practiced an hour a day; I even got up at 6am to do it.  I was going to be a concert pianist when I grew up.  By high school, I continued to practice, but just enough to keep from getting grounded.  There were moments in college when I was eager to practice.  When I was learning to play jazz so that I could audition for Synthesis, BYU's Big Band, for example.  But mostly I cosseted myself away for 3-4 hours each day because my parents wanted me to study music.  And so I did.  By the time I had married, graduated, and moved to New York, I was rather done with the piano, and rarely played for a good 15 years, except when asked to accompany the choir or soloists at church.

Source:  istockphoto

Five years ago, I was asked to accompany Vanessa Quigley; she was to solo in a church gathering of 400-500.  I said 'yes' because that's what we do in our church, but grudgingly.  I didn't know her, I'd never heard her sing.  Duty.  As she and I rehearsed an arrangement of the hymn 'Oh My Father', something unexpected happened.  Her voice was beautiful and well-trained.  I found myself enjoying playing, collaborating with her.  I even practiced a few hours in advance of the performance.  I had a similar experience with an equally superb musician when I accompanied Macy Robison for a cabaret-style recital chronicling her experiences with mothering.  

After decades of the piano being a duty, a drudgery to be endured, why did playing the piano again feel magical? 

Is it because:

1. I'm no longer practicing to stay out of trouble or because I'm trying pass a class, but because I choose to? 
2. I'm no longer wondering if I'll dazzle the audience with my technical chops (or embarrass myself terribly because I don't have them or I'll forget the music), but rather thinking about how to best showcase another musician, to be as Robin to Batman, the hero of support?           
3. Or because I'm preparing to collaborate with another musician, to have a conversation with her and with the audience about making meaning of our life experience?  To help people feel something and believe something about themselves that they didn't feel before?  Ultimately, it's not about Robin, or even Batman, but about how they work together to save Gotham City. 

In his book Practicing, Glenn Kurtz writes, "Practicing is a story you tell yourself, a tale of education and self-realization...For the fingers, as for the mind, practicing is an imaginative, imaginary arc, a journey, a voyage....When you sit down to practice (to make a home, build a business, practice a sport, rear children), you cast yourself as the hero and victim of your myth.  You will struggle, succeed, and struggle some more.  The story of your practice weaves all this together.  When you truly believe the story of your practicing, it has the power to turn routine into a route, to resolve your discordant voices, and to transform the harshest, most intense disappointment into the very reason you continue."

There have been stories I've told myself about why I practice -- some in which I've been the victim, some the hero. 

To now write a story in which the struggle has enabled me to collaborate, connect and communicate in a way I hadn't thought possible...

That's a story worth telling myself -- and my children -- over and over again. 

Is there something that you used to love to do that you've set aside?  Have you tried to pick it up again and found yourself discouraged?  Is it possible that you can combine your childhood skills with the ones you've since acquired, to tell yourself a new story -- one that is fresh and relevant to you today? 

One of the reasons that Macy Robison's Children Will Listen has resonated is that it creates a story that gives meaning to mothering.  Saydi Eyre Shumway's post The Snapshot that Changed My Life similarly accomplishes that, Stephanie Soper's Portrait of An Artist, tells stories about her painting, while Rebecca Ellsworth Menzie's Memoirs of My Mother helps make meaning of her mother's untimely death.

I am struck by how much I don't enjoy, even eschew, being Batman when it comes to piano.  Yet it's important I feel my contribution is valued by the vocalist or musician for whom I playing.  Do you have a context in which you prefer less visibility, but still want to be valued?

Should you want to read/listen to more about my college musical experience, click on Telling Your Soundtrack Story:  College, culmination of childhood dreams

Comments

[Positively Present]

Great post! Thanks for sharing so much of yourself here. This was a great read. I wrote about music on my blog today so you might be interested in checking my post out! :)

[Jenny]

Whitney, I understand your piece. I never had aspirations to be a concert pianist, but I do enjoy the magic that happens when the vocalist and accompianist connect. I often play the piano out of duty, but more often than not, I find myself enjoying it much more than I thought I would. I haven't played my violin for 25 years. I have been thinking about how to jump start that part of me again...

[Luisa Perkins]

I remember your piano abstention period. I'm glad you are finding joy in the piano once more.

[Amy Jo]

You are very talented, and should definitely tap into whatever it is that makes you happy to practice! We want more Whitney! I love to play for great conductors and musicians as well.

[Rebecca]

Writing is something I enjoyed and was good at growing up, but put down when I picked up motherhood. I'm just now reuniting with my old talent for good, and find that my interests regarding writing have changed; at least for now. My best writing is about subjects that are meaningful to me, and that's what I enjoy most too. I definitely feel the desire to practice and work at it more than I have in a long time, and maybe finding a current meaningful purpose is the key.
It feels great to pick up a talent, brush it off, and make good use of it for more than just myself.
Loved your message here, Whitney! I can't wait to hear about Macy's UT performance.

[LL]

Whitney, I love to hear you play...
It's a skill I wish I had but certainly wouldn't have the patience to put that amount of time into it.
I'm so anxious to see Macy's show, I hope she performs again, in our area, soon!

[Rachael]

Whitney, I'm so happy to hear that you have had this shift in your feelings about playing the piano. I think it is wonderful that it can once again be a pleasure for you to play, rather than just a duty. You are truly gifted, and I love to watch/hear you play--one of my favorite piano related memories of you is at a Christmas sing-along at your house in Southboro. It was a joy to raise our voices in Christmas cheer with such a skilled and capable accompianist in the lead. I am so happy for you that you have rediscovered the magic in making music!

[Lisle]

I love this post! I think you've struck a chord with all who've read it. ;^) I think that there are many who want to be valued without being the lead...that's the reason for choir. It's a way to take that unique something you have and blend it with everyone else's unique something and come up with a sound of beauty. Collaboration, especially with talented people, is an amazing growth experience.

I love to hear you play. And I love to hear Macy sing. It's pure joy. Thank you both!

[Margaret Woolley Busse]

I chose not to major in Vocal Performance or Musical Dance Theater for this reason: I did not want to make singing a chore for me (plus, I was really intersted in economics and political science!).

[EHD]

My experience with piano is both similar and very different. I did not major in piano in college (English and political science), but I still practiced 2-4 hours a day, simply because I loved it. (In hindsight, I think it was also a form of meditation and a way to deal with borderline depression and OCD.)

Once I left my undergraduate years, I lost the structure of teachers and regular performance dates. Also, the time constraints of graduate school, profession, and children caught up with me. I stopped playing, not because I didn't love it, but because if I couldn't play at my prior, near-expert level, I didn't want to do it at all. I let perfectionism get in the way of something I truly loved.

Practicing can be hard work, and sometimes it is hard to persuade myself to sit down and get started. Also, it falls under the "important" rather than the "urgent" category--something you need to do to attain expertise, but the progress is so incremental that it is hard to convince oneself of the importance of any given session. However, I have NEVER left a practice session regretting it. (The same is true of exercise.) I have always left the piano feeling spiritually cleansed and uplifted (and frankly wanting to stay longer).

I love what music schools call piano accompaniment. It's not "accompanying" (with its implication of playing Batman to Robin). It's called "collaborative piano", which acknowledges the importance of the pianist in the overall piece. My sister is a professional opera singer. It's been interesting to meet some of her "coaches" (expert pianists who have chosen to work in opera, working with singers' interpretation and diction). Good singers know that their pianists are a critical part of their performance, and they regard them accordingly.

[Macy Robison]

Collaborative piano. I LOVE that. I've been thinking since performing with Whitney in Utah that the term accompanist just felt like the wrong word. Having Whitney play the piano for my show has been a collaboration and a joyful one at that. Whitney - your hard work and willingness to perform with me has been a thrilling and humbling part of this whole cabaret experience for me. I thank you for that. And thank you for this post. I want to read the book you quoted on practicing. The quote really rang true for me.

[Maria]

I agree with Macy. I loved the Utah show and thoroughly enjoyed both your performances. Collaboration, synergy, sistergy.

[kare anderson]

this lesson really resonated with me... it takes awhile to move beyond "shoulds" to be pulled by what gives us pleasure... and there is an extra sweetness when it is an experience one is co-creating....
one of my fav quotes "Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life".... thank you for your lovely blog

[Jean]

Beautiful post. Thanks, Whitney. I had a similar experience with music in college. I enjoyed it so much in HS, but then in college it became so pressured and stressful that I felt I'd lost a bit of my love for it. After I was through with college I continued practicing dutifully for a while, but then kind of left it unless someone asked me to play or sing. Then when I did, I was extremely nervous--to the point of barely being able to perform. Over the last few years the joy has come back to me in bits, I think as the memories of the pressure have faded and as I've allowed myself to play when playing is a joy to me. Although I've always appreciated the talent (even in the off times), I sure appreciate it more when I'm really enjoying it and taking part in it. Thanks again for the post.

[Julia]

Great post. I love Kurtz' quote. So much of what we do in life really is 'practicing' - especially for me 'rearing children. "When you truly believe the story of your practicing, it has the power to turn routine into a route".

Incidentally, I wish I had practiced the piano more as a child, but I am a much better pianist now than I ever was because I want to be.

[Mali Woods]

That's a great quote Julia!!!When you believe in what you practice the routine becomes the route to achieving what we are working towards! Love it!

Are you still practicing and performing Whitney? I grew up studying classical piano as well - although it never felt like a chore….it wasn't until I got older that this inner "hero vs. victim" role around creativity began to surface. In Steven Pressfield's book -The War of Art - he identifies "the victim" as resistance…maybe there's a part in all of us that resists becoming "the hero" of our dreams - I know Joseph Campbell would agree...that our inner resistance between these two roles is the making of every great story…makes you wonder, if it were easy, would there still be a story to tell?

Great post & cheers to everyone on here who is daring to dream :)