The Power of Music

Music has always been a part of my life. My parents bought me my first keyboard when I was five. I took the book that came with it and learned how to play melodies with my right hand almost right away. I couldn't figure out the left hand until years later when I was in high school.

I joined the choir program when I entered middle school. Our choir director thought I had a great tenor voice and really encouraged me to continue with it. Sadly, as happens all too much today, I was bullied out by some of the other kids for my appearance because I was overweight.

I needed something to fill that emptiness I had from leaving the choir program. I looked toward our middle school band to fill that void. Sure, they had flutists and trumpeters, a few french horns and clarinets, saxophones and trombones... but they didn't have a tuba player.

Coming from a lower middle class / upper poor class family (granted, an American one where the standard of living is so high we really can't complain) I went with the tuba - first, because it was unique (only a few people play it); second, because there was no way my parents would be able to afford to buy a trumpet, trombone or saxophone, used or new. The last reason may be a bit more comical; when I went to high school football games I wanted to be "that guy", playing that big old thing called a sousaphone.

And that's how my musical journey went until the unthinkable happened: we were moving away. Not just to another town, not just to another state, but halfway across the United States. Being a sophomore in high school I was crushed; surely I am not the only person that this sort of thing happens to, and it may happen more frequently today, but it doesn't change the fact that it hurt a lot.

I closed the book on my music. I didn't want to touch an instrument much less play one ever again.

I found it again when I found my Faith. I had purpose and reason again. I looked at my music as an opportunity rather than a reminder of a painful time in my history. I still wouldn't play for any other high school band director, but playing at church was okay for me. It was there I finally figured out how to get my left hand going on the piano ;).

Then college came. I participated in the orchestra, wind ensemble and pep band. It balanced out my life at the time, with all that studying. I could always go to a practice room and have my "quiet" time (it was anything but quiet!), to refresh, reset and rejuvenate myself.

I got to the point where I could play harmonies and melodic rhythms with my left hand on the piano and change key signatures on the fly. After a long day of classes and activities I would often retreat not to my dorm room but to the quiet sanctuary of a practice room. I got to the point where I could express how I was feeling at that very moment through the keys on the piano.

I never thought it was anything special, but one evening something unexpected happened.

I got to a practice room late in the evening. It was a long day, I needed to decompress, so I placed my backpack down on the floor, put myself on the seat and started going at it. The melodies and harmonies just came naturally. Louder, softer, loud again, runs, arpeggios and then a pause... but only for a moment before continuing on.

I finally got the day out of my system on that piano and I heard something that you do not normally hear around the practice rooms - crying.

I opened the door, walked out and asked the gentleman what was wrong.

He replied, (and I will never forget this) "That was the most beautiful song I have ever heard. What is it?"

I was flabbergasted. Shocked, really. I told him the only thing I could. I said, "I don't know. It just came from my heart, based on how I was feeling today."

The power of music.

Today, I would love to have a piano. I miss it. I do feel incomplete without having one to just bang on. I do have a guitar, a really nice one, a Taylor Presentation Series, but I simply don't have the fingers to play it well. But maybe that isn't the point. Maybe the point is to just play because you never know what it could do not only for yourself, but for those who may be listening.