I have always been a fan of music. I love how it changes your mood and lifts your spirits. How it can say so much even without any words. I love that music has so much depth and is relevant to every age and stage of life. I love how music is present at every celebration. I love how we all have a playlist we would call the soundtrack of our lives.
Recently I discovered a new-to-me artist, Ed Sheeran. He was featured on the iTunes festival the past two years, a British singer. It was the only concert I watched all the way through. His music is deceptively simple. I love how music has layers.
I love music so much that in College I even decided to try my hand at a semester in the Worship Arts program. It’s always been my desire to sit down at a piano and put music to my feelings. The happy ones, the sad ones, the ones I don’t even have words for. So I took a composition class at 8:30 am, (my first creative sacrifice because
I love mornings.)
There were about 12 people in the class. A few of them who had done all the piano grades and taught lessons to earn their spending money. They were all in bands I’m sure. Two of them had released their first CDs that year. They sang like angels, they played air guitar with precision. They spoke in rhyme, they entered rooms to drum rolls.
I had started playing piano about 12 months earlier. I’m pretty sure my 4:00 lesson fell in between a 3 year old and a 6 year old. But my piano teacher was great. I enjoyed every minute of the 18 months I spent tickling those ivories.
But the kids in the class carried around their strings and brass and music sheets. They walked in time signatures and placed their coffee orders in four part harmony. I carried around my walkman and drank Slurpees. I started to think I was in over my head.
The professor in this class was someone I knew well and trusted, and he confirmed my suspicions after the midterm. ‘It’s great that you’re trying something new, but this class is just too advanced for you.’ It was Harmony 101, I couldn’t take it down a notch, it was the beginning.
And I gave up. I stopped going to class and failed out.
I have few regrets in life, but this is one of them. That one fail is a black mark on my almost perfect College transcript. I tried something new, something that didn’t come naturally to me and at the first sign of opposition I gave up. The kicker is that at the end of the semester my prof came back to me and said; ‘I looked over your mid-term again and if you had just stuck with it, you would have passed. Just barely, but you would have passed.’
“I dreamed a dream in time gone by…. ”
(Here is a link to one of my many fave songs, really the whole album is awesome.)