We need to find grounding before we can find expansion.
I've been learning a Brahms Intermezzo (Op. 118 No. 2) introduced to me by Jim, my 76-year-old piano student, who developed a deep love for the piece. With its unending melodies that seamlessly weave from one to the other, at first I wasn’t sure how to approach the piece in regards to musical expression. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if I liked the piece. However, slowly, as I began to study the Intermezzo, I felt myself increasingly drawn to it as if answering its demanding call to be played. I especially enjoyed the evolution of the harmonic structures with each repetition of the passionate melody.
During one of his lessons, Jim and I worked on one four-measure passage from the Intermezzo. We discussed the similarities and differences between the chords, assessed the best fingerings needed to access the transitions, and helped him understand the dance required of his hands and wrists to perform the piece. As we did so, we noticed the left-hand bass notes remained consistent while the upper right-hand notes moved higher.
That grounding of the bass note provided the passage with structure, consistency, and a sense of belonging and context for the expansion of the rising melody.
Which led me to thinking…
“Before we can expand, we must find grounding.”
My mother, and her mother, both displayed a cross-stitch saying in their kitchens that read There are two lasting gifts we can give to our children- the one is roots, the other wings. My mother gifted me with that same cross-stitch, which now hangs in my kitchen, when I gave birth to my first child.
Little did I know then that nearly 13 years later, I would begin the process of re-gifting myself those roots and wings. Not that my family hadn’t provided both to me while growing up, but somewhere in my adulthood I went “off-key” and lost my way.
As my faith and marriage that once kept me safe dissolved, I came to realize that the very things I thought provided me with roots and wings were actually cages in disguise.
When I left those things behind and slowly disentangled myself from the systems and societal expectations holding me, I felt exposed, confused, and unsure of who I was apart from them.
Like a skydiver pummeling to the ground, I couldn’t find my feet. Without a firm foundation, there was no way for me to stand, let alone expand.
Thankfully I found my double parachute in the forms of music and writing. These two practices provided me a safe return to the ground and myself.
As I daily set the music on the stand (usually Chopin’s works), I found solace and a reminder of my first passions: playing and teaching the piano. As I began to write volumes of diary entries paired with solitary walks in the woods and tearful yoga practices, I began to hear my voice.
These two practices provided me a safe return to the ground and the home key of my life. Once I was safe, with my feet firmly planted in deep knowing of who I was, I was able to push off and truly take flight.
This passage from Brahms’ Intermezzo was only four beats in length, yet it provided me with a profound perspective on the previous four years of my life.
We truly need grounding to expand. Taking the time to find, rediscover, or even create new roots is worth the time and effort so we can become all we want and are meant to be.
Brahms Intermezzo Op. 118 No. 2 Performed at home October 2024
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