I quite like being outside during a rainstorm, and over the past few weeks I have had six chances to be outside. Five of those times were really pleasant, and more than make up for the one time that sucked. And truthfully, the one time that sucked was not all that bad, just a bit inconvenient. I had been across town for a meeting, and as I was getting ready to walk to the U-Bahn stop, it started pouring. I tried to wait it out for a few minutes, but then sucked it up and walked through the streets to the station, getting pretty soggy along the way.
The other five times were great. Two of those times, I was standing outside the pub, safely under the large umbrella covering the tables. From my dry vantage point, I could sip my beer and watch all the people who had forgotten their rain gear dashing home through the puddles.
The three best times, in my opinion, were when I was at home sitting on my balcony, cup of coffee in hand, enjoying the closeness to nature. My balcony is already one of my favorite spots in my flat, and even more so when it's really coming down. (German lesson for the day: Es regnet junge Hunde...pretty much similar to the English expression)
I find it very peaceful and relaxing when it rains, and I tend to need all the help I can get when finding ways to relax and find peace. On one of the mornings I sat outside, I allowed my mind to settle down and I simply tried to be present. I had some Einaudi playing in the background, and listening and reflecting helped me have an epiphany: I knew what I could give my grandmother for her upcoming birthday.
Sure, I am very fortunate to have some very good friends and close family. My grandmother has always stood out to me as an exceptionally wonderful human being. There are few people who are so loving and supportive as she is. If I am having a bad day, I simply need think of her and I find immediate comfort. If I am having a good day, I think of her, and the day just gets better. How cool is that?
A few weeks back, I played a few pieces for Nadja on the piano, and her feedback also helped me decide that I should make a little playlist for my Grandmother and send her some mp3s of stuff I have been working on. Even though I would not be there to celebrate personally, I could at least share some happy Grandmother thoughts (and tunes) via email.
Over the next days, I spent a lot of time practicing and getting my playlist sorted. I selected seven pieces and hammered away to get them to a level that I deemed acceptable for public hearing. The irony is that I do not do so well playing in public (hence the reason Nadja sat on the balcony when I played for her from my living room: somehow after all these years I still struggle to perform in front of a live audience). This actually extends even to when I am recording the piece onto a digital track. As soon as I hit the "record" button, I almost immediately play a wrong note or chord. Thus, I need a few takes to get a piece just right.
It's funny, playing piano is very relaxing to me, but it takes me a bit before I can feel fully relaxed and totally engrossed in the music, forgetting anything and everything (and everyone) around me and simply being present. To a great extent, I thank my piano teacher for helping me with this. Mrs. Lipsett not only was instrumental in teaching me music theory, but she helped me learn how to feel the music. I think she recognized my aptitude early on, but she also knew how to nurture and encourage. She would select pieces for me to learn, ones that would challenge me but also give me great reward. Without her, I never would have gotten into guys like Czerny or Debussy. Likewise, I would not have developed such an appreciation for playing by ear. I cannot express my gratitude enough for her influence on me.
As I recorded my pieces, I reminded myself on how she would teach me to play a certain passage, or how to develop my technique. It is always important to understand the notation, as it helps express the style. I can still recall how she would help me visualize how to play staccato notes, legato notes; chord progressions; I think of this almost every time I play. Those thoughts serve as homage to having such a wonderful teacher, a teacher that is still with me 30 years after I stopped taking lessons with her.
Early last Friday morning, I sent my recordings to my Grandmother; my way of wishing her a happy 101st birthday. Later in the day, I called her on the telephone and congratulated her personally. What a nice way to start the weekend, and I celebrated with her in spirit throughout the weekend, hoping she is enjoying listening to my gift.
Alas, yesterday morning, I woke up to find an email from my mother, giving me the news that my piano teacher, Mrs. Lipsett, had died over the weekend. She was a wonderful woman, an excellent teacher, and certainly helped me become who I am. Thankfully, I can smile through my tears as I think of all the fond memories.
So, I will finish this up and go play Ludovico Einaudi's "Experience."
To know both my Grandmother and Mrs. Lipsett, it's an experience worth celebrating.
bryan
No comments:
Post a Comment