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When you first meet someone, they tell you their name. Afterward you can say that you know them, you have met them, and they stand out from the other strangers that come and go.  Curiosity leads you to then ask questions about someone you would have otherwise ignored. A connection is made.

The same is true when you walk through the woods or open field. It is the plants whose name I know that catch my attention. I now pat the large beech tree as I pass after my friend David taught me to recognize it's elephant-like bark  I bend down to examine the little Rue-anemone flower after Val acquainted us years ago. The chipmunks and squirrels are many, but they are not strangers because I know their name.

Now my skill for name recall is weak, so while I may not remember every name or pinpoint how I met each one, the ones to which I've been acquainted stand out just the same.

This is not a chore; there will not be a test. It's just a reminder that the first step in developing a connection is learning someone's name. To know the community is to go out and learn who lives there. You can look them up in the book or have someone personally introduce you. Only then will you have crossed the threshold from being a stranger to becoming a friend.

In the comical movie, "Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian" historical museum exhibits come to life during the overnight hours. Theodore Roosevelt (Robin Williams) and Napoleon Bonaparte (Alain Chabat) wake up and move as night watchman Larry Daley (Ben Stiller) and Amelia Earhart (Amy Adams) try to protect legendary characters from being boxed up and replaced by new, hologram exhibits.

 

During their quest to keep the figures alive, the couple receives a riddle that must be solved. They immediately run to the "Thinker" (no actor name; just animated stone) to see if the famous statue -- sitting on a rock in deep thought, resting his chin in his hand -- could think through to the solution.

 

When I watched this part of the movie, my mind wandered: who sits and thinks anymore?

 

The artist Auguste Rodin created The Thinker (a.k.a., The Poet) during a time when people had to rely more on their own intellect and meditation to solve problems. The Internet didn't tell them what to do, global information wasn't instantly available, and a device for every problem didn't exist.

 

Contemplation is not extinct, but it is getting rare, and its scarcity only hurts our quality of life. The Internet is not always right nor is the information pertinent or devices useful. In the museum, the Thinker was of no help; he was stuck in thinking mode. But in life, taking the time to ponder can be the difference between finding a meaningful path and one that is a whirl of senseless activity.

 

No man-made hologram can replace the beauty and wonderment that is our own experience, but we will never see that unless we take the time to sit on a rock and think about it.

The last entry in my "What I've Learned from Playing the Piano" series is simply a recap. 

The end of the series does not indicate the end of learning because as long as I continue to play, I will continue to learn.

Here's what was written over the last few months:

Part I: An Intention to Pay Attention

Part II: The Crippling Power of Vanity.

Part III: Take the Time to Figure it Out.

Part IV: Put Your Heart Into It.

Part V: Take Time to Play.

Part VI: Hobbies are Vital.

Part VII: Remember What is Important.

When a performer sits down to play, it's likely that he is concerned he'll make a mistake. In Part II, we talked about the crippling power of vanity and how nervousness can ruin a performance.  In addition to controlling one's attitude, a seasoned performer can also control his focus, bringing it to the primary element of any song, so that any mistakes will have limited impact on the overall performance.

I once attended a workshop where the question was asked, "Because it can be so difficult to sing and play at the same time, which task gets more attention?"  The answer was definite: singing. The teacher explained that when a song is sung, the words take first precedence because they tell the story and capture the audience's attention. If a mistake is made on the accompanying instrument, it's less likely that the audience will notice than when words are flubbed or mumbled.

Other times, such as in the case of a classical piece, expression of the melody becomes most important. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata is such a melancholy song that it can make you feel the same. It's not a technical piece, so one must use expression to make the song shine. Meanwhile, technique is the priority when playing the Flight of the Bumble Bee at the tempo needed to finish in just one minute (a feat I've never achieved).

Obviously we strive to play all the elements correctly, 100% of the time, but the truth is perfection is reserved for the experts. And whether we are talking about a child's first piano recital or your next big presentation to the board, the end result will be a more positive one if you can identify and give priority to the one thing that is most important at that moment in time.

The recent gift-buying season proved just how difficult it is to select a present for someone who has no hobbies. It's easy to find a new project for a model-building enthusiast, a book for the avid reader, or warm clothes for the skier, but when it comes to the people who spend their time on the couch watching television, they need only one thing: a new hobby.

In my opinion, TV watching does NOT qualify as a hobby. Neither does Internet surfing. These activities help to pass the time, but they rarely challenge your brain or motor skills. Meanwhile, lots of American's are filling their down time with these artificial hobbies. A real hobby creates excitement or rallies someone to action. It turns empty time into something that has been built or envisioned or an action that improves with practice.

I suppose video games must be accepted as a hobby since they do meet these standards, but I believe that a bonafide hobby is one that can be done even when the lights go out.

If you don't have a hobby, you are missing out on a great part of life. Finding one can be as easy as asking your friends and co-workers what they do for fun or paging through the local paper's advertisements to see what catches your fancy.

My life would be dull without my piano-playing hobby. And it also helps the gift-giver since they can always find something for me at the music store.

I am a musician who reads sheet music. Dots and lines and foreign phrases all must be translated before a written page can become a song. The beginner may take hours, days or even weeks to do this, while I need just a few minutes (depending on the complexity). This is not because I am a genius; I have been playing for 30 years.

A beginner will slowly and carefully make sure all the details are right. What key is it in? Is it a 3-4 waltz or a 4-4 rock beat? Is that chord supposed to sound unusual? What exactly does Adagio mean? At the start, I HAD to plod through in order to figure it out.

As the lessons continued, you might say I became proficient, but mostly I got better at guessing. I now play a lot of songs, some of them well, but rarely without mistakes; and too often when I'm learning a new piece, I just guess so that I can continue on and enjoy the song..mistakes and all.

The hard truth is it would be a richer melody, and much more pleasant experience for anyone listening, if I took the time to figure out all the nuances and key changes and strange chords and tempo-marks.

And this truth applies to all things in life. How much more powerful would my computer program be if I took the time to read the instructions? How much easier would the drive be if I first took the time to figure out the best route? How much more rewarding would my marriage be if I took to the time to find out what happened in my husband's life each day?

When I first touched a computer, I read every word. When I first learned to drive, I knew exactly how to get where ever I was going. When I first met Glenn, I asked about all the details.

If I did my writing job well today, you will need only read this once to get the picture. Swiftness comes as we repeat our daily tasks, but we should not take for granted the understanding and richness that is gained when we take a moment to figure it out.

[Footnote:  Adagio means, "slow, leisurely; a slow movement."]

One of the hardest obstacles to overcome when performing is nervousness.

The older I get, the more I realize that it's vanity that activates these nerves, and that's not a trait I want to uphold. The dictionary describes vanity as undue pride in one's self or appearance. While it's not easy to get up in front of an audience and throw off concerns like "Do I look ok?" or "Will I meet their expectations?", the irony is that the more I worry, the worse I play.

I recently watched Oprah Winfrey interview the former actor Michael J. Fox. Suffering with Parkinson's Disease, Michael's limbs jerked and twitched as if, as he described it, a rambunctious child was climbing all over him. It was difficult not to get distracted by his constant motion, but that didn't diminish the power of what he said.

The words I remember most came when Michael described how the disease gave him a new perspective. He is now aware of what is important, and his life began to improve the day he realized he needed to throw vanity out the window.

If a performer loves what he is doing, it means that he has found his talent. People want to be captivated, and it is the presentation of that talent they come to see. Vanity only blocks talent and ruins an otherwise great performance, whether it's for an audience of one or ten million.

Printed words tell us information we never knew before, and once we become proficient in reading, the message translates into knowledge with little effort. The same is true for me--a pianist who reads printed music, except the song I discover comes from reading dots and lines and symbols. 

In both scenarios, however, comprehension requires focus. If we do not direct our full attention to reading, we are unlikely to retain the information, just as I am unlikely to play a song correctly if I allow my mind to wander while playing.

There is no doubt that focus improves performance, but attention control can be very difficult to master. I believe it is one of the biggest reasons why some musicians, athletes, and entrepreneurs are more successful than others. Sure, talent plays a part, but if the gifted musician isn't focused on the song, the passion is lost and result is less than perfect.

I have a few fleeting moments of focus when I play, and it always feels good when it happens. I find myself thinking of nothing other than the song. I don't worry about mistakes, I don't care if anyone is listening, and I trust that the notes are right, even if the chords are a little unusual. There is no room for worry when my brain cells are consumed by the rhythm, melody, message, and the expressive translation of what is on the page.

Unfortunately, I have no answers for how to achieve focus. I am told that training, meditation, and adequate sleep, nutrition, and exercise all effect our ability. One thing is for certain: we've got to want it. There must be a measure of desire to get lost in a story, learn a new fact, set a new record, or just play a new song.

How do you control your focus?