Love set aside

When I was seven years old, my parents bought me my first guitar. It was a 3/4 size, classical style guitar with gentle nylon strings for my miniature hands. Once the basics were mastered, my teacher asked which style I wanted to pursue. Several choices were presented to me, and I opted for classical music. So every week for eight years, my dad drove me to classical guitar lessons. In eight years, I studied with four teachers at two studios, accumulated eight guitars, went through dozens of packs of strings, taught scores of students of my own, competed in several exams and festivals, and found one of my greatest passions. My parents were committed to my music, so long as I found joy in it, and gifted me with encouragement, support, strings, the occasional new instrument, and weekly rides to my lessons.

It was not always easy to learn a new piece. The fingering was unfamiliar and clumsy and it often sounded terrible. But as I studied the piece it would come alive. At some point, the music would transition from notes on a page to some living entity. I wasn't in control of the music anymore; it controlled me. That was the only time that I could be completely "in the moment," and it brought me more happiness and peace than just about anything else.

After I graduated high school, I didn't play much. I'd try and jam every now and then, but it felt forced and awkward. Every now and then I'd pull out my guitar and try a few classical pieces, but I'd grown rusty and it was frustrating to stumble on phrases that once were easy. After my dad passed away, I didn't play a note for months. I set aside a grand and joyous piece of my life, and it wasn't clear when I would pick it up again.

Recently, I woke up and I wanted to play. I wanted my old skills back. I wanted to feel as alive as I had when I played as a child. It has been a struggle to be patient with myself as I relearn old pieces and strengthen dormant muscles. I've been playing classical music almost every day, and although it's a gradual process, my passion has returned. Sometimes we don't need to look forward to find happiness, but backward.