Farewell to the Piano?

Over the past few days, I’ve been thinking a lot about a beautiful piano composition called Farewell to the Piano, originally known as Abschied vom Klavier.   Although its attribution to Ludwig von Beethoven is questioned, the story goes that Beethoven composed this tender little piece to bid adieu to his beloved instrument as his deafness grew more and more profound.  The song first came to mind while practicing for my piano recital, and it’s been echoing in the concert hall of my mind ever since.  It makes me wonder whether it’s time for me to bid farewell to the piano.

I’ve been taking piano lessons for the good part of nearly forty years now, and you’d never know it.  You see, God blessed me with a keen ear for music – I can predict the top 10 American Idol finalists in their first audition and can pick out a single sour note buried deep within a 50 piece orchestra.  I love all sorts of music, and music plays an important role in my spirituality.  But while the good Lord was busy installing the gift of music in my ears, he neglected to endow my hands with a lick of the dexterity needed to make good music.  You can imagine, then, the frustration I feel every time my good ears hear the bad music generated by my clumsy hands in their futile attempt to tickle the ivories.

     

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m extra hard on myself and that I notice my mistakes much more than anyone else does (except for my piano teacher).  I know that I’m not a bad piano player, but I also know that I’m not a good piano player either.  I’m consistently inconsistent.  In one moment, I’ll nail a piece; in the next, I’ll make mistakes that I’ve never made before.  That inconsistency fuels an insecurity that makes me very uncomfortable playing in front of other people.  That’s why recital time makes me wonder whether it’s finally time to bid farewell to the piano.

I firmly believe that God gave us every talent we have to use for the benefit of others; but I also believe that God didn’t give us every talent.  We can’t be good at everything.  I’ve never been good at sports or fixing things, but I have other talents that have brought me great joy and success.  Hopefully, they’ve benefited others as well.  That being the case, I have to ask myself whether I’m wasting my time (and money) trying to master a talent that I wasn’t given.  Isn’t the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result?  Could my energies be better spent exercising a real talent that might actually do someone some good?  Perhaps, but I also have to consider whether pursuing the seemingly unachievable is doing me some good.  If nothing else, playing the piano keeps me well-fed on humble pie, reminding me (over and over again) that I’m not practically perfect in every way. 

          I was having so much trouble this year with my recital piece that I considered bailing from the recital.  Although the audience is tremendously forgiving, my practice runs through the music were consistently inconsistent, and I just didn’t feel like making a fool out of myself.  In the end, I decided that I had to go.  I had encouraged another adult student to play in the recital, so I felt obligated to put up or shut up.  I also felt that I owed it to my piano teacher, who had survived yet another year with her indisputably most challenging student, and to my daughter, whom I “harp” on regularly to practice her instrument of choice.  The recital was yesterday.  I played my piece, and it was fine; not perfect, but fine.   With that frustratingly familiar result in hand, I wonder whether it’s time to bid farewell to the piano.  Nah.  Pass the humble pie.

Click here to listen to Farewell to the Piano.