I remember being enrolled in piano lessons as a kid — I wanted to learn. However, in addition to taking ballet so many hours in a week, I couldn’t follow anymore rules. It was too much. Everything in my life at that point came with the expectation (and baggage) of razor-like precision. I had to PRACTICE dance (which I didn’t) and now I had another chore. More focus, MORE criticism, MORE “get it ‘right’”. I was exhausted. I was discouraged. So I put the piano down, never to pick it up again.
Until now.
I’ve written songs and music my whole life. Anyone who knows me knows that I sing every third word, I turn everything into a song. I’m made of music, but no one really knew. I wasn’t seen as the girl you go to for music stuff even though that’s all I wanted to do; there was a disconnect in that transmission – me. I was keeping the bird in the cage for reasons all having to do with the fear of not being good enough, not being “perfect perfection.” I was standing in the way of my goddess-given gifts; standing in my OWN way.
Enough was enough.
I grew frustrated by not being able to take what was in my head and “put it on the page” as they say. The music just sat while I remained silent and discouraged. And then one day in 2017, it all broke open…
With Guess I Could Cry, my new sad song power ballad, I knew that I’d have to learn to play it. The journey in this story is too personal for me not to pop my self-taught piano cherry on it. It’s a story about moving through the feelings and emotions that come up when reflecting on a period of time and go: nope. Like all my songs (up until now), I could sing every note of every instrument, but struggled in translating it to my hands. Enter my very patient keyboard, Eastar, and my new motto, “practice makes possible”. Why? Because there’s a science behind perfection that combats my inner saboteur – it’s called hard work (and it’s something you can’t download).
I don’t need to be perfect in telling my stories – they weren’t perfect in their creation. Nothing is…and WITHIN that, they’re perfect. Does that make sense?
Here’s me playing on a Monday ⬇️:
Now here’s me playing on a Friday ⬆️
Forward motion made possible by nothing more than the desire to do so and then the repeated sequential execution of a thing – aka practice. And science. Are there mistakes? Hell yeah. Do I care? Absolutely not. There is so much beauty to be found in the mistakes. Do you know how many times I’ve messed up in a scene and it ends up making the final cut? Too many to count. When I’m focused on perfection, I can’t listen. If I can’t listen, I can’t hear. And if I can’t hear, I might be missing the point. I might be settling for a slice of life when I could be having the whole cake. In life, I think I’ll leave perfection to nature and math – like 3.14 and solfeggio frequencies types of universal secrets—
If anybody needs me, I’ll be over here having more cake…
…but like….also pie, though…..😏
Thanks for reading!
xo — Cloie ❤️