Tonight I was practising Piano from some sheet music I am working on. Old Cecil can sadly no longer be tuned, so I am mostly playing my new Casio Privia Digital Piano now. The keys haven't the light touch that Cecil's have, so this is taking some getting used to.
Despite this new piano being more of a machine than Cecil is, I am bonding with it- it has a sweetness to it, and its string sound is great for practising versions of Symphonies. As I finished the sheet music, my fingers started to find a melody in Phrygian mode (a mode of C major); he was there again- was he giving me this melody or helping me find it? I am unsure..but this melody I know. It is not a melody that I have heard before; that is, it is not part of a piece that is well known...but yet it exists. I have heard it, long ago...hazy images started to float into my mind and I could hear the melody grow. I instinctively knew what notes were right, and what were not, as I noodled about. It has a medieval feel to it. I shall be revisiting this melody again another night and seeing where it takes me, and noting it down. It is one of those evenings when I want to write a poem or short fiction, having had a few days of being in creative flow. I feel like something is waiting to happen. Sometimes words are not quite enough to express what is within, so we pause and wait for it to flow once more. I think about music, especially Classical music, which expresses moods and awakens experiences deep within that one cannot quite find the words for. I am always enthralled by the genius of the composers of the 18th and 19th centuries; how they created such affecting music, like symphonies and sonatas which could convey so much without a single word. I like to noodle on my piano sometimes; of course being a beginner, I cannot quite see it as "creating", but now and again I find myself finding little melodies and entering dreamscapes; seeing scenes, glimpses of musical expressions, that are just that little bit out of reach. For a while I didn't quite understand these reveries- upon asking competent musicians I know whether they had visual experiences whilst playing, I got blank looks. I shrugged it off as one of my eccentricities, whilst continuing to enjoy the experiences, playing some nights in an almost dream like state; my mind falling into images whilst my hands took a life of their own. Being a beginner who could, and still can hardly sight read, I was puzzled by these occurrences- for they never happened when I was trying to play sheet music, just when I let my fingers rest on the keys, closed my eyes and let whatever wanted to come, come. I knew he was there of course, how could he not be? I felt him with me each time, this warm, encouraging presence; he often stood behind my chair as I played. Other times it felt as though his energy was flowing into the piano and out into the keys, then my hands. Little melodies would come, that felt familiar, and from a long time ago; though I had never heard them in this lifetime, almost as though I was tapping into musical stories. I was not doing much creative writing at this time, but in some inexplicable way these musical experiences seemed linked, and I began to write again. The musical experiences lessened, then stopped, partly because I lived in a shared house and the lounge was often occupied, then I moved to my present home and took piano lessons, concentrating on trying to learn to read music. Yet at times I would think about these happenings and wonder if they would come again...and then they began again, slowly, a few minutes of reveries- a butterfly dancing to my musical notes, or a scene of the Sea... Then one October night, last year, as I worked on a classical piece there he was again, stood behind me, that familiar, warm presence. This time I knew who he was. Our guides show great patience, always waiting for us to acknowledge and recognise them. When this moment occurs, the joy is a wonder to experience. "Will you let me help unlock your creativity?" he asked me one night a few weeks later. For that is his joy- to see me in creative flow, and sharing this with him. For many months this year I did not touch the piano, nor write, having had a period of illness and life's problems, dampening my creativity. In addition my piano teacher moved out of the area. When I recovered I could feel him longing to see me play again, even asking me to play with him once more. My self consciousness was in the fore, but gently he guided me back to starting to play and write again and one night recently, he said to me as I finished playing, that I can play as I write. I expressed some great doubts at this, for I am far more a competent writer than a "pianist." ! Then he explained that the creative processes are one and the same, almost; that they are a way that we go within, access the imagination, and give expression to what we experience. Our dreams may also be another way we tap into those realms of betwixt and between; at night the atmosphere tends to be quieter than the day- our guides often draw closer to us at these times. Tonight I will keep paper and pen by my bedside- all too often we can forget what comes to us in the wee small hours! “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.” John Keats |
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December 2014
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