Tonight I cried.

Almost 30 years ago I stopped playing the piano and the reason I stopped was because I had become obsessive about playing just two pieces – House of the Rising Sun by The Animals and Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.  I would spend, literally, hours playing those two pieces over and over again. 

At the time, my husband had died from a very aggressive and virulent brain tumour.  He had been given just three months to live but he had held on for 16 beautiful and awful months.  After he passed, these two pieces of music soothed me.  They held me together, gave me focus so that I would not fracture into a million broken particles.  They allowed me to escape this world of pain and sink into pure emotion and, sometimes, I could even glimpse the possibility of peace.

Then had come a time when I began to believe that this constant repetition, often for hours at a time, was probably not healthy.  It was time to move on, so I packed up my keyboard, sold it and have never played – or consciously listened – to either piece since.

Now, 30 years later, I am retired and I spend far too many hours in front of a different type of keyboard – my laptop or my tablet or phone – and last week, to encourage keeping my brain active, I bought a piano keyboard.  It was a cheap one from Amazon.  One that was labelled as suitable for children and beginners.  I sat at that keyboard and realised that I have lost every bit of knowledge I used to have about playing the piano.

I’d started school when I was just two years old and already able to read and write.  Piano lessons began when I was three and ballet at the age of four.  Then came a time when I had to chose – ballet or piano and I chose ballet.  So it was rather a shock when I sat at that keyboard and realised I knew where middle C was, but beyond that….  nothing. 

Tonight, before settling down to sleep, I was doom-scrolling through Face Book and a reel appeared which was of Moonlight Sonata re-recorded as 8D – the method of making the sound alternate between ears with the intention of soothing distressed minds.  It doesn’t help me become calm – quite the opposite.   I remember a few decades back when alternating the sound tracks produced a similar effect that was very experimental and quite exciting, but listening to that music reminded me of those weeks and months spent playing Moonlight Sonata.  I searched in You Tube for Moonlight Sonata, and, with my bone conduction headphones on, I closed my eyes, let the music wash over me and allowed the emotions to flow. 

So much has happened in life since I used to escape the hardships of the world by playing this piece – some things good, many things difficult, and I have been trained from a very early age not to show emotion – which is very difficult because I am an very emotional person.  I see the world as a field of emotion; I experience life as emotion; any memories I hold are tied to the emotions of that time.  I cry all the time, and because this was not acceptable as I grew up, I get embarrassed, frustrated and sometimes even angry with myself as I try to push the emotion down – to hide it.  It gets blocked in my throat and frequently bubbles up completely outside my control. 

Tonight, listening to Moonlight Sonata in the quiet privacy of my home, I allowed that blockage in my throat to relax, and I cried.  As I type this, I am crying.  Later, as I edit it, I still cry.

Music has the ability to release emotions you don’t always know that you have bottled up inside you.   It has the ability to by-pass the tendency to swallow pain and fear, to squish it down and hope it hides forever, just so you can function and get through whatever your life is throwing at you. 

There are two other pieces of music which also release deep emotion for me.  They are Mozart’s Requiem and Symphony of Sorrowful Songs by Gorecki.  Symphony of Sorrowful Songs kept me company during the months when I was full-time nurse for my husband.  At night when I knew that medication would keep him sleeping, I would head out to work, alone in a large office in an otherwise empty building on the edge of a deserted car park.  Afraid, absolutely exhausted, but so grateful that the business owner allowed me to retain my job by working when I was reasonably sure that my husband would not need me.  It removed the worry of not being able to pay the mortgage and perhaps losing our home as well as my husband.

Mozart’s Requiem also brings tears – I played it at his funeral.  But there is also joy in that music as I remember my niece, visiting from England, a trained opera singer with a dream of singing at the Sydney Opera House.  We went there and asked permission for her to stand on the stage in front of an empty auditorium and sing.   She was refused.  Instead we took a ferry ride in the Harbour where she bravely climbed onto the roof of the ferry, faced the Opera House and sang at it.  Not quite the same, but so very beautiful.  I was not the only person on that boat who was crying.

So many memories raised by a piece of music.  And as I once again head off to bed, I recall the music that lifts me up.  I used to be a 1980’s dance-aerobic instructor…  Yes, 1980s dance music will not only get my toes tapping but will also elicit laughter at the fashions of those times – especially those leotards we all wore!!!

If life sometimes feels hard, or you want to celebrate, laugh, dance, cry, sing at the top your voice, music in all it’s many, many forms will help release what you are holding inside. 

And just for fun, go make your own music.  You don’t have to buy a keyboard – or any other instrument..  banging a wooden spoon on a plastic bowl or a saucepan is awesome therapy.

Thank you for reading this.  I invite you to think about the music you love – go listen to it and allow yourself the freedom of experiencing the emotions it brings to you.

And if you need to – allow yourself to cry.

Walk in Peace – the Path of Peace is already beneath your feet.