Practicing...

Lately, I've been trying, myself, to practice more at the piano, rather than always crowing at my students to practice without doing it myself. It's been off-and-on successful -- I've learned a few new pieces (like the Debussy below) in the past few months. Still, I'm nowhere near where I need to be! The problem is our inconsistency, as we all know too well. It's a lifelong issue: we have to learn to make things we weren't born doing (e.g. making our beds or practicing piano) come as naturally as it is for hunger to remind us to eat, or pain remind to us that we are hurt.

In my "Parent/Student Information Packet," I make this statement:

"Consistency in both attendance and practicing are essential. Students should practice every day for an appropriate amount of time (e.g. beginners should practice 15-20 minutes a day). As the student’s skill level increases, so will the expected practice time."

It's funny, I don't get in what a beginner should some of the time -- how can I expect all these busy little children to, with all their volleyball and cheerleading and dance classes? Granted, they have parents to remind them to practice; but still, parents are busy, too. What reminds us to do the things we want to do? Well, it comes naturally...

So the question is, can we make practicing piano, or any other such "learned" habit, a natural part of our existence? I think the answer is in setting our priorities straight in our cluttered minds. I heard once that, "A brain remembers what it thinks is important." Maybe we have control over what our brains consider to be important -- if we do something consistently every day, I think that over time our brains will naturally become accustomed to the routine and it will be more and more natural.

Ultimately, it's really what we enjoy that we remember. The best kind of practicing is when you actually enjoy it, not when you are simply doing it out of duty. I remember when I was in about the eighth grade, something "clicked" with me and I became almost addicted to practicing piano. I think it was that the success I'd wanted to see from constistently practicing finally surfaced, and there was no other motivator like it. Success was the vessel for expression, too -- piano practicing became an outlet for me, a place to go when I felt awkward or shy, a way to express myself or relate to people when I couldn't really do it verbally or in social situations. Now, I'm not an awkward middle school girl, but I am a woman in my twenties that has found that the stability of practicing piano, or any other kind of routine like that, is almost therapeutic in nature. We don't know it, but we crave routine, predictability -- things we can trust will happen day in and day out. When I miss a practice session, I don't feel guilty as much as I feel I've missed out on a little of the spirituality that is in a routine...

"And all work is empty save when there is love; and when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God."

-Kahlil Gibran, from "The Prophet"