Music Makes Everything Better
Wednesday was not a good day. When I came back to my room from dinner I really did not want to go and practice piano. I really wanted to lay in bed, eat peanut butter, make myself some milk powder paste, and read a book about Baghdad. There were a few problems with that, though. First, I could not lay in bed without feeling guilty because I have the gift of responsibility. Secondly, I did not have peanut butter or milk powder. And thirdly, I knew from experience that the book about Baghdad would only satisfy me if I had finished everything I wanted to finish. "Set out to finish" is a better way of putting it, since I really did not want to do any work right then. I trudged out the door towards the back of the Cathedral. Sometimes I really despise being responsible.
The halls of the music department are not straight. They curve and wind, like catacombs lined with blue-grey carpet. When I arrived Wednesday night I unlocked my practice cell and went through my routine: out came Chopin, Bach, and my metronome, and off came my shoes. I locked myself in so that the cell would be relatively sound proof. Then I did scales, trying to drop into the notes instead of just playing them like I always do. It is very easy to become complacent and fall into a predictable practice routine, instead of consistently challenging myself to do better on every practice session. "My word, this is frustrating," I thought. I opened Chopin, and began the first prelude.
An hour and a half later I came out of my little room feeling rejuvenated and joyful. I had a smile on my face, and I was humming snatches of every song that went through my head. What happened? Music. For me, music is catharsis. Playing it and listening to it help me work through whatever I am going through. I remember one particular day I was feeling tired and discouraged. One of my friends asked me if I was all right, and I told them what I was feeling. Instead of giving me a pep talk, they hummed a song on the way to our next class. Before long, I was breathing easier and smiling. "See," they said, "music makes everything better. Don't worry. Everything will be fine."
The same thing happened on Wednesday night. The music calmed me. Experiencing the beauty of it all helped me realize that God is still in control even when I feel tired and frustrated. Music helps make everything better.
The halls of the music department are not straight. They curve and wind, like catacombs lined with blue-grey carpet. When I arrived Wednesday night I unlocked my practice cell and went through my routine: out came Chopin, Bach, and my metronome, and off came my shoes. I locked myself in so that the cell would be relatively sound proof. Then I did scales, trying to drop into the notes instead of just playing them like I always do. It is very easy to become complacent and fall into a predictable practice routine, instead of consistently challenging myself to do better on every practice session. "My word, this is frustrating," I thought. I opened Chopin, and began the first prelude.
An hour and a half later I came out of my little room feeling rejuvenated and joyful. I had a smile on my face, and I was humming snatches of every song that went through my head. What happened? Music. For me, music is catharsis. Playing it and listening to it help me work through whatever I am going through. I remember one particular day I was feeling tired and discouraged. One of my friends asked me if I was all right, and I told them what I was feeling. Instead of giving me a pep talk, they hummed a song on the way to our next class. Before long, I was breathing easier and smiling. "See," they said, "music makes everything better. Don't worry. Everything will be fine."
The same thing happened on Wednesday night. The music calmed me. Experiencing the beauty of it all helped me realize that God is still in control even when I feel tired and frustrated. Music helps make everything better.
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