Rhyme and Reason

(My head won't leave my head alone)

At 8:30am on a Friday you can hear the sound of dedicated music majors as you walk down the practice rooms hall at the music building at Ball State. I, a mere journalism student, was among them to brush up on the piano skills I once possessed years and years ago.

While violins, pianos, and other instruments played difficult pieces by Mozart, Tchaikovsky, and so on, I pulled out a piece by Pachelbal. My favorite piece by Pachelbal. In fact, my favorite piano piece ever: Canon in D.

I fell in love with Canon in D when my sister first played it at home. While I had heard Canon in D before, hearing it on the piano, alone, with no other instruments, in the cozy comfort of my house, was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. I immediately borrowed the sheet music from my sister and went about learning to play it. The score I have isn't hard, and because I was so determined to fill my ears with its lovely sounds, it didn't take long for me to learn it. Once I learned it I perfected it. And once I perfected it, I memorized it. And then I was able to sit down at the piano any time and breeze through the piece. It was one of the only pieces I had learned to play so well.

Until one day, it wasn't.

I can't remember the exact moment I stopped practicing it, but I do remember the first time I tried playing it and couldn't remember. It was last year when I was an RA in one of the dorms. On a lazy Friday morning, like today, I found myself at the piano in our lounge and decided I would hammer out Canon in D, just for fun. The beginning part was easy. But then suddenly, I stumbled. A wrong note. I played it again. Wrong note. Okay, it's this note. No, no it's not. Is this note? No...

Suddenly I realized that not only had my fingers forgotten their way, I had forgotten how the piece even went. I called my mother and asked her if she would send me the sheet music.

I never did get around to actually practicing it last year. But this year I have gotten in the habit of stopping by the music building on Fridays and playing for an hour or so. I take with me an assortment of sheet music; most of it much more difficult than I had ever learned when I took piano lessons. But every Friday I barely touch the other pieces. Every Friday I sit down and the first thing I play is Canon in D.

I've been struggling with the piece for awhile. Looking at the sheet music actually makes it worse. My fingers have gotten so use to playing without having to read music, that reading music actually throws them off. It's much better for me to just play it by ear and feel, as I have done so many times before, and when needed glance at the sheets.

What's interesting is that my fingers do remember, it's just that I forget. I get nervous at the parts where I know I have a tendency to mess up and in the back of my mind I think "Don't mess up, don't mess up, you've got this..." which of course makes me mess up. Then I try to play it again and the same thing happens. Soon enough my practicing gets worse and worse. Before I know it I'm laughing at myself because I've completely butchered this beautiful piece and my hands are now keeping my head from banging against the top of the piano.

That's what's keeping me from playing this piece flawlessly. My head.

I knew it was all in my head, but I didn't realize to what extent until last Friday when I was at the music building. Frustrated once again for messing up at the same part, I started playing the piece from the beginning. Then I thought I heard voices outside. "Oh no," I thought to myself. "They can hear me. And they can hear how horrible I am." Soon my mind wandered off into this daydream of these music professionals laughing at me as they walk down the hall, or one barging in on me, screaming "You're not a music major! You're not even a pianist! Get out!". As I amused myself with such thoughts, I suddenly realized that I was still playing. Not only was I still playing, I hadn't messed up. In fact, I just made it through the toughest part in the piece without stumbling once. I kept playing and finished the piece. Although it wasn't played perfectly smooth, it was played without hitting any wrong notes. I took a deep breath, packed up my belongings and went home. It was a good enough note to end on.

The piano practices are only a metaphorical reminder as to how my head gets in the way of me all the time. My head prevents me from thinking I can be a writer. My head once kept me from dating the guy of my dreams. My own damn head gets in the way of things more than anything else.

I remember one time I was running 800 repeats and I didn't think I could go at a certain pace. My track coach said me, "The body is willing but the mind is weak." Translation: You have the ability, but you lack the confidence and belief. He was right. I had it in me to do the repeats at the pace he wanted. I had the ability to run the 2 mile (a race I was forced into but ultimately ended up loving). I had the ability to be a much better runner than I thought. But my head, my own mind, was keeping me from doing so.

And that's what I'm working on. These piano practices aren't just about practicing piano. They're not only about learning new pieces and perfecting the old ones. Every week my piano practice is a mental challenge. Will I be able to play Canon in D flawlessly or will my head mess me up? Sometimes my fingers win. Sometimes it's my head. Today, at 8:30am without my cup of coffee yet, I was still in zombie-like state of mind and so my fingers fortunately won. But will I be able to keep it up? Will I be able to break the mental block I keep facing? If the body is willing, will the mind stay weak?

Stay tuned.