Each Thursday morning I breathe deeply, tuck my hands under my arms to warm them, and wait. I started taking piano lessons when I was seven, and haven't stopped. My sister taught me for eight years, and the last two of those I also took lessons from my brother-in-law. My sister led me through my lesson books (good old Faber and Faber) and thoroughly into the world of classical, romantic and baroque music, and my brother-in-law taught me about chords, harmony and improvisation. A year (plus a few months) ago they moved to another state and I started taking lessons from the woman who taught my sister while she was in college. I was nervous, but felt comfortable quickly because hadn't I been taking lessons from her, through my sister, for several years?
This year, one Thursday at a time, I'm learning a new thing: performing. Seminar is only a group of students, our teacher, and the beautiful old Bluthner in Smith Recital Hall, but it is teaching me how to move past my nerves. It also gives me motivation to practice hard, and a chance to share in others' musical progress. I love to listen to them. But I am so human! After I play each week, I sit back down and let my mind wallow in criticism of my performance, or in jealousy of others' talent. It takes prayer and a heck of a mental effort for me to return my focus to healthy analysis and pleased listening. My goal is to do away with the pride, and the jealousy, and the self-consciousness, and just fall in love with the music. Maybe this will be the year.