23 Diciembre 2011

After over-preparing myself for reverse cultural shock, I have been back in the states for 4 whole days now.
the hardest things to get used to are not what I expected.
Like, throwing toilet paper into the toilet and not the wastebin. that motor memory is having trouble re-recording that one.
Or, being able to get in the car and go buy anything I want to whenever I want to. I must have spent about 20 minutes just standing in front of the school supply aisle in target (good quality supplies being something I have been searching for all over the country of Peru for for my students). "They are right here," I kept saying to my brother, "I can just buy them."

the things you would think would be weird seem to fall into place.
like driving
or being with family and friends.

in that aspect, it feels like I never left.

but, the most unexpected, is music.

While in Lima, during an In-Service-Training about 6 months ago, I touched a piano for the first time in a year. My fingers were frozen and forgetful. I couldn't get a single line of music out of them. I was overwhelmed with heat and fear. "Use it or lose it"
I began morning the loss of the pianist, like the ballerina.
I dreaded seeing pianos. they filled me with fear and longing. I didn't touch one again until today.

I went into the basement and pulled my books out of the bottom of a cardboard box. Scott Joplin was on top. Then Chopin said hello. Then Debussy, Mozart, Bach, more Chopin, more Bach (I had my favorites). I started with some old Hanon finger exercises and then opened Beethoven's moonlight sonata. Anticipating an excruciating hour of working out every single note on this four paged piece I went through the c# melodic minor scale. The first run up, then back down my fingers were idiots falling onto the white keys from the black dominant scale. My ears were confused.
second run.
third run.
wait
that didn't sound so terrible
suddenly, my fingers went through the scale a forth time and something was awake. they were ready.
I looked at the notes to the piece, unable to to verbally tell you "that is a g#", but my fingers just laid themselves on the first keys. I let them go.
They played.

The relationship between the piano music, my fingers, and the piano left my consciousness behind. they played without me.
My eyes communicating directly with my fingers, excluding any mental processing, allowed the piece to come. not perfectly, but it came.

as I realized what was happening, my brain started to get jealous and try to jump in,  my eyes began to water, and my fingers began to fumble. I pulled the reigns of consciousness back and my tears dried and my fingers kept going through the piece, beautifully.

the more my awareness leaves, the more my torso sways with the music, the better I play.

final c# cord, with that dissonant e

my arms go straight up in the air in fists like a goal was scored and my brother, on the other side of the house hears, "They still got it!!!!"