A Life In Review??? Yeah - Right.

Today, I turned forty.  Yes, you read that right the big 4-0.

I remember when I was a kid and someone said they were turning forty, I was dumbfounded and couldn't even comprehend living to be that age.  My young mind couldn't even wrap around the concept of living for forty years. I really thought forty year old's had one foot in the grave, napping all the time in their rocking chair with their blanket covering them to keep the chill away, a grumpy attitude towards everything young and awake, creaky bones, swelling ankles, busy planning their funeral, and waiting for old man reaper to come collect their ticket, or something else like that.

Here's the odd thing, I don't feel like what I thought a forty year old should feel (not on most days).  In my head I'm still a rock solid twenty-eight year old (until I look in the mirror and notice a few more wrinkles and other things going south that use to go north)!  Take the mirror away and I'm a twenty-eight year old, with her heels kickin up, screamin let's go, do it again,  jumping in feet first without looking type of attitude.

Yeah, it sounds like I'm in need of changing my views on what age I'd consider old.  I'm thinking 90 is a good old ripe age, it's a hell of a long time to live too (sorry Grandpa, but that really is a looong time).

A typical post of this type would now turn into a 'Life in Review' type.  It would cover items like; what I've learned, what I should do different, what if, what is, blah,blah, blah type of post.  But hey, this is me, and this isn't how I think (remember the twenty-eight year old living in my mind).  I hate to break it to you, but this is NOT the direction I'm going.  Sorry for those who may be looking for a bit of advice, I'm saving that for another day....  Instead, I'm turning to a conversation:

Earlier today I said to my sister (who by the way is only a year younger then me), "I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do when I grow up." 

My sister started to giggle in that tone. The tone that meant, 'umm you should know by now, your forty for goodness sakes.  You have one leg in the grave, and the other one just about ready to fall in'.

She soon followed her giggle with, "You are forty, you know?"  

My mind want to scream at her, 'What you mean since I'm forty, I'm suppose to have this already figured out?  Well guess what, this forty year old doesn't quite know what she's going to do when she grows up!'  However I calmly (I think) said, "Yeah, but I'm only half way through living!" 

That's right, I still have at least forty more years of living.  A hundred years ago, that was equivalent to two life times!  In modern day America, I have the luxury of living two life times.  This means that I can make-over, change, re-create, or live another life at least two times.  I've spent  my first life time (in a brave, lively, ferocious, pleased, and happy manner), and now I have another one to look forward to and figure out what I want to 'do' and 'be'.

I still don't know what I want to do when I grow-up, but here's one thing I can say about my next forty years. I'm going to work better on getting that damn Sheila in my head to shut up.  I'm going to ignore her fun deflating tone and get out there and act like I'm 28 (well a bit more sober at least).  I'm going to jump in, feet first, not looking back, and grinning all the way.  

I do have a list of items I'd like to do before the old man reaper comes, you can review it here.

On Sending Love and Opening Up - A piano gets a new life, and I send out the intent for a new piece

I've been thinking a lot lately about downsizing, letting go of things that don't serve my family or my needs anymore.  Most of the stuff I hold onto are things that have great memories attached to them, or they were something that belonged to my mother.  She passed of undiagnosed heart problems - I'll save that story for another post.

In any case, I have this beautiful piano that my family got when I was 8 years old.  I sooo wanted to learn how to play.  I remember begging for days, months, probably even years!  Finally, the day had come! (I guess my continual pestering paid off!)

I remember walking into the piano store, as my eyes beheld the pianos in front me, my excitement grew to paralysis!  All I could do was stare, and take in every detail of the shiny, beautiful, perfect pianos.  I knew I had to revel in this moment, take it all in.  I looked at every single piano before settling my eyes on the 'one'.

Oh this piano was perfect!  when you pressed the keys they all had the same pressure, the sound was angelic, the curved smooth body was perfect.   I run towards my parents telling them that I've found the perfect one!  My dad follows me.  As I sit down on the perfect piano bench, he giggles.  I knew then that I wasn't going home with this piano.  Come to find out, the white baby grand was way out of our budget.  My dad and I walk back to the ''frugal' section of the piano store, where we'd eventually find the 'perfect' piano.

I remember my mom sitting down at dozens of pianos.  Shed play a few keys and cords checking for their tone and how well it resonated.  She slowly narrowed down her choice to 2 pianos.  In my recollection, I think they were the exact same piano.  I couldn't hear any difference, nor could I detect anything visually different.

This is the piano I'm sending with love
to my sister.  It's now been 31 years
since it's been in the family. 

After what seemed like days, I'm sure it was maybe an hour, my mom pics the 'one'.  The piano of her 'dreams'.

The idea was that my sister, Beckee, and I would take piano lessons practice after school each day (at least 30 min).  While my mom fine tuned her rusty ability, and learn to play like she use to years ago.  Oh, I was so excited, I couldn't wait to get it home.

I don't remember how the piano got into our house, for all I knew or cared it was magically twinkled in by the fairies.  I do remember the first time I sat down at the piano.  My dad sat down with me and showed me how to find middle 'C'.  Then he showed me what an octave was, and how play the 'c' scale'.  I played on that piano for hours.  I think I even fell asleep under the bench!

I wrote my first song on that piano, it was 'Nicole', my elementary BFF inspired my to write it.  I think it had only 2 cords and 4 words for the entire song.  I learned how to play Star Wars, that was fun.  I also learned to love Beethoven, Bach, and many other classical composers.

About 6 months ago, my daughter
added these letters to help her learn
 how to play.  I think she's played it
 2 times since adding these.

In my junior year of high school I decided to try out for the Brigham City Peach Queen pageant.  For my talent, I decided to play a classical musical piece on the piano.  I can't remember what I played.  However, I can remember how nervous I got when I stepped out onto the dark stage.  All the spot lights were off, which made it possible for me to see the crowd. OMG was it a large crowd too!

I could see all the red blinking lights from the many camcorders recording what I was about to do.  I sat at the piano waiting to disappear, wanting to become part of the ivory keys or the black seat - no such luck.

The spot light shines in my eyes - I'm up.  It's my turn to dazzle the judges and wow the crowd.  I'd worked hard (well, maybe not as hard as I should have) with my piano teacher - I was ready.  I started playing the memorized piece of classical music.  I continued to play for the next 2 hours (well maybe on 3 minutes) the same 2 lines of music over and over again until I could figure out a way to end the disaster.

My mind went completely blank, I forgot the music, forgot what I had practiced - well except for the first 2 lines!  Gladly and quickly I end the snowballing mess.  I stand, bow, and run off the stage.  I'll bet you'd be surprised to learn that I didn't win Peach Queen, runner up, or any other title.  I was fine with it, because it wasn't my thing any way.

Ivory and Ebony keys

Years later, I'm a young adult now.  I ask my mom for the piano (because in my mind it was bought for me and it belonged to me).  She tells me no, it's her piano.  I couldn't believe my ears.  What, her piano?  In all the years we've had the piano, I  never heard her play it.  She tell me she practices when no one's around.  I ask her if I can hear her, she says no, because she's embarrassed.

More time passes, maybe 8 years since I asked.  In that time my mother passed about a year before and my dad was getting ready to marry in a few days.  I walk by the piano in his living room and my Dad asks me if I'd like to take my piano home with me.

What? My piano?  It's been 20 years since we've bought the piano, and my Dad tells me that he really got the piano because I begged so hard as a little girl.  He adds, after all I was the only one to really play it,and it belongs to the one who played it.  I'm so excited to finally get my piano home, I jump up and down while saying, "Of course".

I've now had the piano in my possession for 10 years.  In those 10 years I can probably count on all of my fingers and toes combined how many times I've played it.  Sad, but true.  I even sanded and refinished the piano, except the legs- cause I wanted to change those out, but it hasn't happened.  You can even see in the picture that I haven't stained the legs.

I sit and look at the potential of that piano, the great sounds it's capable of, and yet no one plays it.  I'm in a place in my life where I don't desire to play the piano. I want to orchestrate great nature expeditions, not piano music.  Having this great instrument is a blessing and a curse.  I love the memory, the connection it brings to my mom, but it just sits and takes up space.  Space that I'd like to see something else that we could use there.  Something that fits into our decor that could house other musical writing material.

The foot pedals - I remember
trying to reach these when
I first started to play.  I couldn't
wait until one day I'd be using
these in my songs.

So, here I go opening up to the universe - letting go of a beloved item in hopes for another beloved item, one that my daughter will have these types of memories about.

I called my sister, Beckee, who has 3 of her 4 children learning to play the piano on an old worn out, with 2 broken keys, piano.  I ask her if she'd be interested in having the piano.Without hesitation, she says yes.  Her children say yes.

They were feeling the same excited feeling I felt when we walked into the piano store.  I'm sure they'll feel the same way I felt when they finally get to have the piano in their living room.

The piano is off to another life.  To be cherished, loved, played, and received by other children.  Music will resonate through the fine keys, strike the strings, and back out of the solid wood, creating tones of pleasure to the player, listeners, and piano.

I open my heart and send out to the universe the intent of finding and receiving the 'perfect' new piece of furniture that will house what it needs as well as turn into a beloved family item.

Roll-on little piano, play on

Live on little piano, let music resonate again.  Thank you for the many values you helped me learn: dedication, hard work, coordination, commitment, and love for music.  May my nieces and nephews find the same love and values through you.