My Beethoven Zen

Music has always been a way for me to express myself. From a young age, I had each of my parents’ taste in music and then my older brothers’. When I was eight years old, I started piano and theory lessons, followed by the trumpet at age 11. I developed my piano playing under the Royal Conservatory of Music and my focus was classical. I enjoyed radio music and what others listened to, but classical music has always allowed my emotions to flow and for me to find calm and balance.

Even before my piano lessons, I wanted to hear more classical music. It was one genre that my family did not play. I had saved my money and my mum was taking my brother and I to the music store. I was so pleased with my purchase – it was the only cassette under Beethoven in our small fishing town music store. When we were in the car on our way home, my brother was bursting with excitement to get home and listen to his copy of Van Halen’s “1984”. My mum had picked up a vinyl copy of Barbra Streisand’s “Emotion” and would listen to it at home either in the evening or on the weekend.

Only mum or dad were allowed to play vinyl in the living room where their record player and speaker system was – the room we entered only for Christmas celebrations. It was in this room that we would gather around as a family and sing Christmas carols together. As our talents increased, we moved our Christmas sing-a-longs to my piano and my brother would join in on his trombone or guitar. We were by no means a Partridge Family but my mum enjoyed her Christmas carols and her children played instruments. These memories of times gone by bring fun into music – in a world where I was studying technique and form surrounded by structure and rules our family music time created fun in music. Our family time around my piano was like being at the beach playing with a beach ball. My brother and I had the correct technique and notes but my mum’s singing was like the beach ball, where it would flow freely and a little bit unpredictable.

My brother and I each had a Sony Walkman to listen to our cassettes. I climbed up on my bed and looked at my brand new cassette – Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 “Pastorale” conducted by Herbert von Karajan performed by the Berlin Philharmonic. I sat under my headphones listening to the first movement and I felt like I was in a field on a warm summer day, carefree and frolicking with my dog, Bosley. There were friends and laughter. The string instruments were the melody of my childhood summer days without any worry or awareness really outside my family and friend circle. Then a shift, tumultuous, impeding – in my childhood fantastical years, it represented a thunderstorm. Intense and dramatic but passes and back returns the beauty and simplicity of calm, a beautiful sunset on a summers evening. The music moved me from start to finish – an hour long journey into my imagination, dancing with the notes or trills.

Since my first cassette, I have moved my collection through CDs and into digital format. The benefits of digital was the ease of creation of playlists and how easy it was to access my library of music. CDs were less challenging than cassettes and all I remember of cassettes is trying to tape my latest favourite song from the Vancouver radio station LG730 without much, ideally any, of the radio hosts voice or an advertisement. I have created many CDs and playlists over the years, some for friends or even past romantic partners. Each playlist I create comes from my heart – each song specifically chosen, and the order mattered as it told a story, only my story of that moment. My playlists are an extension of my emotions and snapshots of eras, brief or not, in my life. My playlists are the chapters of my life book.

I also broadened my music playing skills into jazz and blues with my trumpet playing. This exposure was great during my teen years – improvisation and no rules defined a couple of those years. I maintained my RCM for piano and theory, but my soul felt a shift with the freedom of improvisation. It was an opportunity to express my emotions through the notes, not just the music. I have the added benefit of not only being a listener but a player of music as well.

With playing there was an element of performing. In bands it was different as I was one of a larger group (even if four members). Any of my RCM exams would turn me into a ball of nerves, and so would recitals. All eyes on me up on stage, no thank you. Within the walls of my home, yes I would play freely and take requests. My mum was the best because she would just present me with the sheet music of songs she wanted me to play. Her tastes were contrary to my classical training and preference, but I quickly fell in love with playing Stairway to Heaven and Bohemian Rhapsody. The learning process highlighted a conflict between my RCM training and the element of fun. I would learn the right hand, then the left hand, then put them together in small sections and repeat, repeat, repeat. My mum would sing along, and she would get eager for me to move onto a section or return to a section with words. There is a lot of instrumental in both pieces! Or she would carry on with the song and then we were out of sync and we would end up laughing. Her presence always brought fun; I was a perfectionist and needed fun.

During my teen years, music became my outlet for emotions. I did not talk to either my mum or dad about friends or school or what my teen life was like. But my parents would know my mood or feelings by what I would play on the piano. Beethoven remains my favourite composer, and I feel very loyal to him after almost four decades of music together. Bach would be second for my personal piano repertoire followed by Clementi. If I played a bourrée, my parents knew I was angry and that something had happened with a boyfriend or my grades. I needed the allegro movement of my hands over the keys and staccato notes to release my internal frustration. Never words, always music notes.

Funnily enough, if I left the piano without shifting from a bourrée, my parents knew my mood had not shifted. The sonatas grounded me and reflected a myriad of moods for me. When I needed to cry but tears could not fall, my emotions cried while I played Pathétique Sonata or Moonlight Sonata. Fur Elise or The Happy Farmer were happy and light, showing me to be silly and fun. Playful music for a playful soul. During these years, I was not a silent teen, my language was that of music.

The music I listened to had greatly expanded from my Pastorle cassette days to include Green Day, Weezer, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Elton John, Billy Joel, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Cat Stevens, Janis Joplin, big band, opera, musicals, and soundtracks. I enjoyed the diversity of music over the decades that I collected or played music.

Through all my years of music listening or playing, there remains one playlist that from start to finish leaves me with my harmony and balance, regardless of my emotional state I was in one hour and seven minutes ago. Elation, distress, hurt, morose or anger – any emotion I had at the start would just disappear with the first strings’ note of ‘D’, then the descending perfect fifths were akin to counting backwards from ten into my meditative state. My breathing would slow; I would bring in more air as I filled my body with music and exhale my emotions. Two octaves the strings fall, and it reminds me briefly of band practice when we would warm up our instruments before the conductor called us to order. But in that brief chaos, a harmonic melody emerges…a glimmer of hope and love. Then intensity builds until

Dah – dah

Dah-dah dah-dah dah-dah

Intensity. The thunder created within with these notes, chords. The music is full of charge. It wakes up my soul and I find my most inner place – my sacred place. Once the charge is over, I feel like I am a bird soaring as the music notes play around me. The opening movement to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony creates a stir within but also frees my soul. The flurry of music notes represents all my feelings or thoughts I do not need to carry. The music allows me to find my inner core in a world surrounded by chaos. Toward the end of the first movement, there is a triumphant element the strings and woodwinds hint toward and the timpani every now and then reminds me that there will always be storms in life. In my Zen state, I find myself now laying on a warm beach with the ocean surrounding me, the warm sun on my body maintaining my calm. The notes flutter around me like the ocean waves crashing and receding on the shoreline. The intensity of the strings parallels the ever-changing ocean, the strings and their final few chords with the percussion allow my emotions be carried away with the waves of music.

The second movement opens with chords and I see myself still at the ocean but navigating the rocks. The strings feel hurried and in a rush as my soul breaks free and starts to run along the shoreline, my feet wet from the salt water and comforted by the sand. There is an element of searching from the notes, and each time I listen I find the answer to what I search for. Sometimes it is to heal a past trauma, sometimes it is to remember a story about a loved one. The blend of notes between the strings, percussion and woodwinds creates a safe place for me to be vulnerable and focus on self-awareness. Then chords, strong and loud. Felt within and I release any negative emotion or thought with these notes.

The shrills from the flutes remind me of eagles soaring along the coastline, close to their nest searching for food. The softness of the woodwinds reminds me of seals as their heads bob in the waves and the clarinets are playful otters nearby. Then the familiar dah-dah; dah-dah and hurried notes along with a return of the melody signifying an impending end to my experience at the ocean. There is a one last series of intense waves and then silence.

Breathe.

Soft notes emerge, quieter and angelically melodic. The orchestra plays adagio and I am able to hear the notes, long and soft, and mirror my breathing with them. There is only calm. My thoughts are quiet, they have all found a place to rest within me rather than tumble around my mind. In my world of Zen, I am laying in the grass with the sun warm on my body and the smell of flowers and summer fill the air. I may not have the carefree naivety of my childhood years, but this movement takes me back into that space. It is safe, it is fun, it is grounding. It is light and airy, allows for movement and flow of my emotions within to find their place and settle, the chaos dissipates. I feel peaceful. Relaxed, no tension, freedom to just be. On good days, when I really find my Zen, I am laying with my family in this field and my dad’s arms are around me. Protective and strong, but he opens them up for me to fly free and explore the world. All my vulnerabilities exist and are safe with the harmony of Beethoven’s violins and clarinets. My soul dances with Beethoven’s notes with light feet and a happy heart.

Breathe.

Discordant and a flurry of sour notes before the cellos play the hint of the melody to come. Awakening. Awareness. The strings softly gather the melody and the harmony we all know, “Ode to Joy”. The softness of the music tones allows a gentleness to continue to flow over me. I feel back at the ocean and this time, I am the eagle perched on a solid branch high up in my pine tree. Like an eagle, I too have clarity of vision having progressed through the movements. The notes gain in intensity and sound, and then the brass. There is something about these few bars of music that brings tears to my eyes. As an eagle, I take-off from my branch and soar without destination, only enjoyment of the feeling of freedom. I see the ocean below, the coastline with sand and rocks interspersed, humans, and my home, the forest. I have transformed from my societal state to my natural state. The notes of Beethoven swirl around my feathers and propel me through the air.

Breathe.

When the first voice enters low and strong, it brings me out of my state and present with the song. I still lay with my eyes closed, but I am aware of my surroundings, aware that I am back in my home and it is present day. There is a power and intensity of the voices that builds excitement within me. Excitement for who I will be when I emerge at the end. Then the violins have their opportunity to respond to the choir, and I feel they represent acceptance needed for who I will become. There are a few bars, ever so brief, of calm stillness. Imagine standing at the edge of a lake and looking far beyond to see not even a ripple, just the perfect reflection of scenery in the water.

Splash. Voices. Strings. Sudden and disturbing the calm. As the water settles from the initial disruption of solitude, there is joyous momentum from within that flows from me.

The finale allows only the feelings of my mantra to exist within – I have found my peace love and harmony. I can awaken and move forward from this playlist with self awareness and confidence that I will only act in love, I will only speak words of love, I will only live in love. When the strings play their notes while the sopranos sing, I feel any last negative feeling or emotion fall from my body. The notes fall like rain that wash away these unneeded feelings. Then their triumphant voices resound before the tenors and bass’. Many voices, overpowering strength that holds me up. I emerge from my musical frolic feeling balanced and rejuvenated.

The finale with the orchestra and the choir blending their notes together, intertwining the voice and soul, into three final bursts from the brass. Silence. I open my eyes and feel like I have travelled through centuries in the last hour and ten minutes. There are elements that this playlist is reflective over many periods of my life – lost love, found love, new life – but I am also aware of the composer. His feelings of elation or hardship, his circumstance while composing.

Music is personal and it impacts people differently, I am aware of that. And at different periods in our life we may react differently to the same piece of music. The one constant for me has been Beethoven’s 9th in its entirety. It never is the same to just listen to one or two movements. This playlist requires the dedication of an uninterrupted one hour and ten minutes for the full emotional journey created within the listener.

I have a modified alternate go to playlist because sometimes, I just do not have the time commitment for my go to and it deserves an honourable mention: First Movement, Violin Sonata No. 9 (Beethoven), Jupiter (Holst), finishing with Air on a G String (Bach). Sometimes there are no words to express how music moves my soul, and the only way to share with others is through a playlist.