Two Musical Ideas

Body Memory

I was truly amazed today by the power of “body memory.” I’ve experienced this phenomenon before with tai chi and a bit with yoga. But for me the true experience of body memory comes from piano and cello. The key to body-memory is simple repetition. If you want your body to remember how to do something eg. shift from one position to another, you repeat it hundreds and thousands of times. I am finding that this occurs more obviously and rapidly with piano than with cello. Repeating left hand phrases, for example ,within a week, leads to body memory. With cello, everything has come harder. But with piano, I’m noticing my body’s capacity to learn and remember more quickly. It’s nice because success makes you feel pretty good!

Counting

You think you know a piece, but until you understand the rhythm, and have spent the time counting, you don’t really. I was playing a lovely little piece “Two tender hearts,” and enjoying it heartily. The phrasing and melody are haunting and exquisite. I felt pretty sure that I’d figured out the mood of the piece and how to play it in a basic way. Well, when I went to my lesson, I discovered the fact that I hadn’t counted through the piece. I’d guessed my way through the rhythm, and I was wrong. So, humbly, I’m relearning it, and counting my way through it 1 and 2 and 3 and, counting all the “ands” in the quarter notes. It’s tricky, because after a week of playing the piece wrong, you have to work through the bad listening and playing habits, and start all over again. Tricky, but good for the brain.

New Endeavours

Last night I began something very new. I joined a local community band. I played the flute back in grades 6-9, then dropped the instrument. Why?

I wonder. At the time, I was focused on my “bad” band conductor. I remember that I didn’t enjoy taking band class with him. There’s not much more to remember. But that event was enough for me to drop an instrument that I once cared about.

In fact, one of my fondest memories was playing my flute in the front yard of our house. I sat on the grass, and played and played, thinking that I wanted to carry on in music. That was the summer before grade nine, and before the unfortunate incident of meeting the “bad” band conductor.

Years later, I ask myself, was he so bad that it was really worth dropping out of band. My adult self says no. My teenage self said yes. Some of my other singularly noteworthy decisions was to quit French and piano also. Hmmmmm.

WHAT WAS I THINKING!?

But it’s never too late. I’m taking French, piano and ..band - which has led to me a man who is interested in teaching me flute at a price I can now afford. Life is so weird. Sometimes I wonder if I’m traveling in circles.

The band, by the way, is a lot of fun, though the flute is darn hard. I don’t know if I used to have a decent embouchure, but I certainly haven’t retained it.

So, I’m a wee bit frustrated, but it will come.

Saturday Scribes: September 14, 2008

The Mood Ring


Enormous baskets of fresh blueberries. Smaller baskets of red and yellow peppers, bright red plum tomatoes, fresh green beans. We strolled by the abundant fruits and vegetables. It was a gorgeous summer day at the Byward Market in Ottawa. Soon we came to assorted vendors: I spotted a blue dress and felt tempted, but remembered that I only had a twenty dollar bill in my wallet - not enough for a dress plus lunch. We continued on, though my thoughts drifted back to the long, blue sleeveless tie-die dress. Other vendors appeared before us. Wood-carvings. Healing gems. I chuckled to myself. Buy healing amethyst, one sign suggested. Another read, try healing hematite. I looked at the vendor, cheerfully selling his healing product and smiled. He was enthusiastic and probably convincing. If I stayed long enough, I’d be taking home several of these healing gems, in hopes that my aching back would be healed. The magnets hadn’t worked.... but maybe.. .

My sister Jenna and I, my daughter Victoria, and her daughter, Christina, stopped at the next vendor, who was selling jewelry of all kinds. Victoria and Christina immediately spotted the rings, in particular the mood rings. They grabbed at the rings eagerly, trying them on, watching them change colour: Victoria’s moved quickly from cheerful, to relaxed, and then settled on peaceful.

“Try one, Mum,” Victoria called out, simultaneously grabbing several rings and my hand.

“Just wait a minute. I’ll do it myself.” I laid down a large basket of blueberries (not the super-large $50 basket, but the still large $30 basket).

I discovered quickly that none of the rings fit me properly. The small ones were too big for my pinky. The larger ones were tight on my index finger- my only available finger. So I nudged one ring just to my knuckle, and watched the mood ring change colour. Green. Anxious. Pink. Cheerful. Brown. Depressed.

Victoria yelled. “Look, Mum. I’m worried.”

Christina yelled. “I’m cheerful.”

Then there was the inevitable chorus. “Can I have one? How much are they? Can I have next week’s allowance right away?

Jenna and I exchanged the usual puzzled Mummy looks. Should we give in? How much were these things, anyway? Hadn’t they already borrowed on their allowance? How much was in my wallet? What would that cover?

I looked at my ring, and figured that it should be showing Green for Anxiety, but it was still on brown for depressed and was looking very murky indeed.

Luckily the question of giving in or not giving in, buying or not buying was solved by the serendipitous appearance of three acrobats, giving a show at the market. One was walking on a raised stick, two others were holding the stick, and one of these was providing commentary, while supporting his friend.

The girls ran over to watch the show, forgetful of the mood rings. Little did I know. That night, I had a child sobbing by my bedside.

“I wanted that mood ring, Mum, so badly.” Her little body was convulsing with sorrow. “I’ll never ever see one again. They’re not popular any more. Why didn’t you get one for me? Why?”

I held the little, tired exhausted body. Telling her that she was just overtired, that the mood ring was less a factor than the fatigue, would not help.

She was inconsolable until the next morning, the mood ring was forgotten - almost.

Saturday Scribes, September 6

Theme: Music

Words: Elbow, crows, merchant



Dear Sir Frederick,

I am writing to you now to implore you. Stop. Stop immediately. Your letters arrive daily and I can give you nothing but polite refusals. Your many schemes have put me in an embarrassed position. Have you given this any thought?

I do not wish you to play Romeo outside my house, or play Polonius, warning me in your letters about moral conduct. I assure you that I am the best conductress of my own affairs. You assume these roles unbidden, and purely against my wishes.

Your letters are an assault upon me. Yes, I love the merchant Antonio. I love him sincerely and there is nothing in your power to alter this. As you would do. I realize that you have powers. You can send Antonio across the seas, tear him from me, as you wish. But your power is worldly. You cannot touch my heart. You can take Antonio from me, but you can never divide us.

Have you no inkling that Antonio and I have a harmony of minds, a linking of spirits, a conjoining of minds. Our love rivals the music of the spheres. Intricate yet united. Balanced. Pure and holy. Of such beautiful joining you can little comprehend.

I can see you now, standing before me, posturing, hand on waist, elbow akimbo, smirk on your face. You are a skeptic. You cannot comprehend the musical blending of souls. You see my figure, my countenance, and you love in your way.

Your way. Yes. I know what your way of loving means. Ravishing. Taking. Forcing. Looting. Your eye, surveying me, dividing me into my various parts. To you, I am the lady of the sonnets. You eulogize on my parts, not understanding the meaning of the whole, uninterested in my soul.

You love is disharmonious. Unpleasant to listen to. Clashing rather than blending. The cawing of black crows as they descend on an untilled field.

Again, I plead with you. Desist. Leave me. If you love me in any way acceptable, then grant Antonio safe harbour and protect us.


In gratitude and hope,

Amelia