Forever Forever

Forever Forever

松居　慶子　ー　Forever forever.

After 3 months of arduous practice and intent listening, the song I've been trying to transpose is nearly complete. I have once again proven to myself that patience, persistence and some measure of insanity are necessary to accomplish the impossible.

A friend of mine told me that it would take me years to learn to play this song after she heard it. Afterall, I can barely read music and wanted to attempt this song having played the piano for a month. Oh and the music sheet I found was incomplete and moderately simplified. The composer took out the hardest yet the prettiest parts when she penned the music.

But it still burns to hear her comment.

I love to be talked down. I can then show what I'm made of: pure stubborn.

I struggled for hours. I was going nowhere for a long time. But I sat at the piano, ipod in my ear, repeating the same 5 second interval of the song for hours on end, pressing countless key combinations, played a variation of a certain segment for days to match the speed of the song then played with the song playing in my ipod to realize that my variation was unpolished and awkward, back to try other key combinations. This happened over and over again.

I tasted pure stubborn at the back of my throat, from the weight of my eyelids and the strain on my neck.

Mastery came very slowly, but its rewards grew sweeter with each tiny step. It was the happiest I've felt in a long time.

This song is a reminder to myself, that I am still capable of sustained insanity. That I can trust myself to get things done.

Shedding my lower branches

Young Ones

Consider this young pine tree. It grows by adding branches to its top while shedding the ones beneath it. We also can't identify the end of its youth and the beginning of a more mature stature.

We can barely notice the growth. Pine needles pop out at a painfully slow rate, such that our minds cannot comprehend the patience needed for it.

Even with this understanding, we still won't know if it is fully grown.

I would like to think that I am like this young pine: having twisted in the wrong directions a few times, I am ready to head upwards again. Although uncertain if I will botch up again, I am equally unclear what my full height will be. With every bit of apprehension comes an equal measure of hope.