The Piano and Me
When I was a young girl, I always dreamed and yearned to learn about music, particularly the piano. Growing up in a very scary and unstable home environment, I was preoccupied with surviving and managing my fear of living in a household that never felt safe, warm, or kind. On occasions, my uncles and aunts would shelter me and my tiny little body and spirit, but I knew they couldn’t protect me forever.
My only recollection of joy was the music I’d hear on the radio, and I wondered how this box transmitted sound. I would spend hours listening to classical music as a 9-year-old, looking up at the stars from my window late at night, pretending the music carried me through the stars. I would explore galaxies and visit all the known planets. I was a curious kid, full of questions, and mostly scared of almost every adult in my life. I never felt safe, but somehow, music made my life as a kid bearable.
When I was 17, I escaped my environment and pursued music at a four-year university. I joined a jazz choir and took piano lessons. Little did I know, I would not have the financial means to pursue such a career, as it seemed only wealthy kids had that luxury. After two years into my college journey and lacking financial means, I joined the military for what I called a “real” career, leaving my dream of becoming a writer, poet, and musician piano player and jazz vocalist behind. It was a difficult and sad decision, but at that time, with my limited understanding of the world, I denied my spirit’s calling to make music. I’d have to find other ways to make music with my life. I did make a lot of music but with different instruments. I made music with other tools like love, childbearing and rearing, cooking, and secretly writing poetry when my pen or pencil demanded I pick up their song and transmit all the love I felt in my heart for nature, for life, for the universe.
Still, my passion persisted throughout the years. I yearned to touch the keys of a piano. Anywhere I traveled, I had with me a guitar or a harmonica or some type of instrument to remind me at the core of me, I would always be an artist, not a soldier, not a corporate leader, not a sales professional, but an artist, a poet, a writer, and a lover of people and music. Knowing music was the key that unlocked the door to my heart to understand the world at a deeper level. After thirty years of a distorted view of what I believed to be possible, I’ve returned to my lost passion in extraordinary and extremely humbling conditions. It has been as if the keys of a piano have been crying out to me for as long as I can remember, and I’ve finally heard their call. I don’t own a fancy grand Yamaha piano (yet), but a simple keyboard.
For the last few years, I’ve sat closely to my small keyboard and guitar and Xmas lights before bed, knowing that my biggest dream of playing the piano and making music with my guitar and writing poetry and making music is finally becoming a reality. It’s no glamorous life, but it is a life I embrace fully because this is the life I’ve always dreamed of. My new life affords me the time to interact and love my family and time to touch a keyboard every day and feel my spirit sing just because. This is the life I’ve always wanted. I’m here…and it’s beautiful and breathtaking. Every day I learn more and more, and every day my heart opens up more and more to the possibility that the dream I had as a young girl is still possible and real — and I feel this is what people mean when they talk about following your passion. I’m here, and it’s good, and although it took me 30 years to circle back to my dream of writing my poetry and making the piano my best friend, it’s never too late. #nevertoolate
